Lost Dean
by staceycj
Summary: Sam brings Dean back from Hell.
1. Chapter 1

He had been unable to break the deal, but he had marched himself down into the fiery pits of hell and retrieved his brother and brought him back to the land of the living like a hero of a Greek myth

He had been unable to break the deal, but he had marched himself down into the fiery pits of hell and retrieved his brother and brought him back to the land of the living like a hero of a Greek myth. He had Dean back. Everything was okay. All that mattered was that Dean was alive and with him hunting down those evil sons of bitches. It had to be okay. But it wasn't. Dean wasn't.

When he first got his brother back, Dean had been quiet and sullen. His eyes had taken on a haunted quality that frightened Sam. He would talk to his brother, and he got the distinct impression that while Dean understood on a basic level, what he was saying, Dean wasn't exactly inside. He seemed empty. But Sam was willing to let that go, Dean was by his side, that was what mattered, nothing else. They still fought side by side in the same sync they always had but the passion was gone. The emotion was gone. The personality was gone. The shell of the man was there but there was nothing inside any longer.

Weeks and months passed. Now, Dean not only was different on the inside, he was markedly different on the outside. It took everything Sam had to make Dean trim the full beard he had grown. He had only managed that because he said that it would scare away the people that they were trying to help and that seemed to strike a chord within his brother. Honestly, Sam was surprised that that had even worked.

In addition to a full beard his hair had grown out and was now brushing his shoulders, and he refused to get it cut in his typical military style. For as long as Sam could remember, his brother had always had really short hair, he had teased Sam relentlessly as he grew up that he had girl hair, because he had preferred his hair longer than his brother's. When he was young he had wondered what Dean would have thought if he had let his hair to grow out to the point of being able to pull it back. He probably would have called him a sissy or a girl or something lame like that, and right now, he wished that Dean would make fun of his hair or his height, or the way he took his coffee or anything else. But his brother didn't tease anymore, he just sat in the motel room, listened to Sam give out information about the case, ask simple questions for clarification, clean the guns, and go to sleep.

Sleep was another thing that had changed. Before, Dean always slept soundly, now he didn't. He slept so light that a tree branch tapping against the window woke him, had him sitting straight up, his knife in his hands, and his eyes frantically looking around trying to locate the source of the disturbance. What was worse was that Dean slept with blanket after blanket piled on top of him, he would wear sweat pants and sweat shirt to bed, it didn't matter what time of year anymore, he was constantly cold. As if his short stint in hell had sucked his natural body heat out of him and forced him to seek heat, as if hell was trying to beckon him back.

This particular time when his brother awoke because of the tree Sam sat up too.

"Dean?" he said softly. His brother jerked in his direction, knife catching the moonlight.

"Sam." His voice was devoid of anything, like usual.

"Dean there isn't anything outside."

"Might be."

"There isn't." Sam looked at his brother's profile, long hair obscuring it. "Dean you're safe."

"Never be safe Sammy." Sammy. He called him Sammy for the first time since he came back. His voice also held emotion, fear, and sadness, those were not the two emotions he wanted to hear. He got up and went to his brother's bed and sat down and faced him. Took the knife out of his hands and set it aside on the bed. He forced his brother's bearded face up and forced him to look him in the eye and saw his brother's green eyes bright with tears.

"Dean, you'll always be safe with me."

"No, never safe again Sammy. Never." He pulled his face out of his brother's hands, took the knife and lay back down. Sam didn't know what to do. He needed his big brother's help. But he wasn't here anymore. He thought he had brought him back from the depths of hell, but he had only brought the shell of the man he once knew back. Dean was lost. Possibly forever.


	2. Plastered

AN-I didn't intend for this story to be more than a one shot. However, several people suggested that it could be longer. I want to thank GotTheShining for the inspiration. I hope it lives up to everyones hopes and expectations.--Stacey

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Each hunt, each day seemed to take Dean farther and farther away from him. Sam had hoped after the night where Dean had called him Sammy, had treated him like his little brother again, that things would get better, that this dull ach in his heart where his brother used to be would go away and be filled back up with his brother.

Day after day he watched as Dean starred out of the window as they drove, Dean didn't want to drive anymore. He preferred to watch the world pass by his window. Sam wasn't quite sure what was worse, the fact that he didn't want to claim his baby, or the fact that whenever Sam turned on one of his tapes, Dean's eyes would widen, his hands would clamp over his ears, his body would tighten and crumple in upon itself and Dean would yell for Sam to turn it off. The first time had scared the hell out of Sam, the last time he had tried, over three months ago, had depressed him and made the ach in his chest bigger and emptier. Sam had put the tapes into a bag and threw them in the back seat. He couldn't stand to look at them and he couldn't bear to throw them away just in case Dean came back. When Dean came back.

Now there were times when he looked to his brother and saw something that was more akin to animal than human. Sam figured that his perception had something to do with the excessive amount of hair his brother had now, and the haunted caged look his eyes had.

The last hunt he and Dean had participated in was one in which children were involved. This particular hunt tangled Sam's emotions and left him feeling on edge. When they had gotten the children out of harms way, Dean had grabbed the boy by the shoulders tightly and looked into the child's eyes, the first time he had voluntarily looked anyone in the eye since Sam had "rescued" him from the pit.

"You okay?" he asked. Dean rarely spoke and it was never to ask a question, it was always to answer when a nod or shake of the head wouldn't cut it. The spontaneous speaking lifted Sam's spirits. Perhaps Dean was getting better; perhaps his love of children would break him out of this. The child nodded and Dean's eyes were intense and scared. Sam was fairly certain that Dean didn't believe the kid. Dean started to say something else but thought better of it and stood, nodded, and Sam led the kids into the car and took them to the nearest hospital. Dean had refused to go into the hospital with his brother and the children, and when Sam returned he noted that Dean was rocking back and forth and his eyes looked demonic. The green was almost completely gone except for a thin ring circling huge black pupils. The small gain that Sam thought he had made was gone and two more steps backwards were left in its wake.

"Dean?" Sam asked and touched his brother's arm. A startled noise emitted from his brother, and Dean scrambled to get closer to the door and farther away from human contact. Sam closed his eyes and wished that when he opened them that his brother would be sitting next to him saying, "What are we waiting for Sammy? I mean, you don't have to drive, I'm fine. If you can't handle my baby…" But that wasn't what greeted his eyes or ears when he opened them. Dean was still sitting next to the door panicked.

Sam turned the ignition and the Impala grumbled to life and if Sam didn't know better he could have sworn that the thing sighed as he gave it gas. It took hours and hours to get Dean into his bed and to go to sleep. It also took just about every single weapon in the trunk lying around him to get him calm enough to sleep.

Once the older man was asleep, Sam pulled the bottle of Jack out of his duffel, realized that it was mostly empty, and pulled out the second bottle. He sat down on the floor next to his brother's bed and took a swig. The alcohol dulled the ach in his chest, the need to have his brother at his side, because when he was under the influence of this most sensual mistress he could pretend that his brother was with him, that he had never died in Dean's arms, that his brother's grief had never thrown him over the brink and forced him to sell his soul, that his brother was still whole, that his brother was still sane. The drink made everything easier. He took another drink trying to hurry the mistress along. This most certainly wasn't the first night he would get plastered and it most certainly wouldn't be his last.


	3. Anniversary

The anniversary of his abduction into hell was a day that Sam hadn't prepared for. Then again, he hadn't prepared for Dean to come back quiet and distant. He most certainly didn't expect him to let himself go, nor did he expect that the only emotion his brother seemed to be capable of would be fear.

When Sam's birthday, which also just happened to be the day of Dean's death, came he awoke with a killer hangover and all he could think was that if he just had a swig of something it would take away the dull ache residing behind his hazel eyes. He staggered up and went for his duffel; he should have some whisky in there or something. Just as he was about to uncap the bottle he noted that Dean wasn't in his bed. He twisted around and looked for his brother but didn't see him anywhere. Frantic, and ignoring his body's protests, he went looking around the small motel room they were sharing. He checked under the bed, he wasn't there, looked in the bathroom, he wasn't there, he looked in the closet--there he was.

As soon as the mid morning light from the nearby window hit his brother, Dean moved in a blur of speed, grabbed something that Sam's alcohol dulled senses couldn't see, and before he knew it, there was a gun at his temple and an arm wrapped tightly around his throat. He could feel Dean's breath hot on his neck.

"Dean. Dean." He said in a calm and even tone. The gun was shaking and the arm around his neck was practically vibrating.

"Sammy?" he said softly his voice thin and strained. There it was again. Sammy. Twice in a year he had called him Sammy, when before…well before when things were normal. When the nickname made him cringe and wish he was someone else, somewhere else.

"Yeah Dean it's Sammy."

"I don't believe you. Demons lie. You could be possessed."

"My tattoo isn't broken." He said softly.

"Prove it."

"You will have to let me turn around." Sam said softly. Dean's trembling arm relinquished its death grip on Sam's neck and he slowly turned around, hands up showing his surrender. He reached over and pulled his shirt down to reveal the tattoo that they both had on their chests. Dean looked at it and then looked up at Sam, again his pupils had swallowed all of the green, leaving that thin rim of color around the dark fear. He reached out a hand and traced the tattoo, making sure it was complete and sealed. Once he was satisfied he put the gun down.

"Get the salt." He demanded. Sam, confused by the sudden order paused. "Now!" Dean yelled startling Sam and reminding him of the hangover headache he had. Sam did as he was told. He started to hold the salt out to his brother but Dean shook his head. "Get in a salt circle and stay there." Sam did as he was told. Dean nodded and sat down where he was standing. That was when Sam realized that Dean hadn't moved, he hadn't left the perfect salt ring that he had made for himself inside the dark closet. Dean looked around his small circle that wouldn't fit anyone but him, and lightly touched the salt ensuring that it wasn't broken. That was when he pulled his knees up and hugged them tightly; his whole body trembling.

Sam longed for the bottle in his duffel, and a couple of times he attempted to retrieve the bottle, but Dean would latch onto him and force him to sit back down. That is where they stayed all day. Inside of their respective salt circles. Never moving to eat or to use the bathroom. Dean trembling out of fear, and Sam out of need. The stupid salt did more to ease his brother's mind than anything he had ever done. Sam rested his head on his knees and wished for comfort.


	4. Shower

Sam remembered when he was a kid how Dean used to dress him and get him ready for school. Sometimes Sam had thought that Dean was more than just four years older than him. Dean was always so self sufficient. He never needed anyone to help him get ready for school, make dinner or breakfast for him, or even make sure he went to bed at a reasonable time.

Now, while Dean was still self sufficient, he seemed to need to be reminded to do the little things in life; things like eating, bathing, shaving (something he still hadn't gotten Dean to do despite the fact that he had been back for over a year), or sleeping.

Sleeping was something that Dean never had had trouble coming by. He could sleep in the car, in the car parked, hell he could sleep on the hood of the car. Once, Sam had seen him sleep against a tree in a park while he had been waiting for Sam to return from a school outing. Sleep had never ever been something that had eluded Dean Winchester. However, now, well, that was something else entirely. The first week, Sam was fairly certain that Dean didn't close his eyes longer than a mere millisecond, much less long enough to sleep eight hours. The second week, Sam bought sleep aids and drugged his big brother into sleep. Sam was so exhausted when Dean finally closed his eyes and fell into a normal sleep rhythm that he had practically fallen where he stood. Still, even with the drugs in his system, Dean didn't sleep more than three or four hours at a time. Now with over a year gone in this manner, Dean's eyes looked bruised underneath his large round eyes, and his eyes looked sunk in, hollow. Sometimes he wondered, as he watched his brother sleep for those few hours, if it really and truly was a good thing that he had retrieved his brother from the pit.

Next to sleep, eating was Dean's favorite pastime. While at Stanford he had forgotten just how much his big brother could consume, and just how uncouth he was when eating. He had forgotten the large bites that filled his cheeks like a hamster filling its cheeks with bedding. He had forgotten how his brother talked with his mouth full, laughed with it full too, spitting little pieces of masticated cow all over who ever was sitting in front of him. He had been so angry and so mortified when they were out in public. Now, he would give just about anything to have Dean take a huge bite of a burger, with extra onion, and spit half of it at him while he talked. Now, he practically had to beg his brother to eat something.

The first day back he had bought his brother his favorite fast food and even some pie for dessert. Dean's eyes had widened in horror and pushed the offending food away. Sam never understood. He didn't try to. He simply did everything he could to find something his brother would eat. Carrot sticks were pretty much the only thing he could force down Dean's throat anymore. Once in a while a bowl of soup and some carrot sticks, but that was only after he hadn't been able to get Dean to eat for a couple of days. Water was the only thing he would drink, and he would drink it in large child like gulps, watching Sam over the top of the glass like he was expecting him to take it away from him at any second. Dean also never made any effort to procure food for himself, he always waited until Sam gave it to him. Dean had lost a lot of weight. His clothes hardly fit him anymore. He seemed dwarfed sometimes in them. As a matter of fact Sam had lost a lot of weight as well, beer was filling for breakfast, but it didn't exactly help to keep you fit and in shape.

Sam looked up when he heard Dean turn off the water in the shower. He had forced him inside and turned on the water demanding that he take a shower. Sam now took to sitting against the door of the bathroom waiting for his brother to finish. Dean had a tendency to let the water run and not take a shower if Sam wasn't inside of the bathroom watching and waiting.

Sam handed his skinny, shaggy brother a towel and turned as he wrapped it around his waist and stepped out of the shower. Sam stood and left his brother allowing him privacy. Another swig of Jack made him almost forget he just had to watch to make sure his big brother, the man who had taught him how to tie his shoes, the man who had made his breakfasts, the man who had read him bed time stories, took a shower and washed himself. The memories dulled but didn't disappear. He took one more swig just for good measure.


	5. Sam Hurt

A/N: I hope you guys like this chapter, it was harder to write than anticipated. I also don't think it came out right, but let me know what you think please!

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Sam hurt. Sam pain. Sam hurt. Sam pain. These words circulated through Dean's brain as he helped his semi conscious brother inside their motel room. He guided Sam to his bed and laid him gently onto the bed. Dean did things more gently now that he had been in hell. He had learned that gentleness was a luxury that should be afforded people—souls. Nothing was gentle about his decent into hell. His body had been shredded by the hell hounds. Each hound was equipped with razor sharp claws that not only shredded skin, but muscle, disconnected tendons from bone and sent such a surge of pain through a man's body that to be dead would have been a blessing. He remembered screaming so loud and hard that his voice just simply gave out and all that was audible was a thin strangled cry of breath. He died when one of the more tenacious hounds had jabbed a knife claw into his chest and punctured his heart and stopped his life.

What had come next he hadn't been prepared for, his soul had started it's journey out of his body, and it was going in a northward direction and he saw a beautiful white light and he even heard his mother say his name, smelled her, felt her presence around him like a warm blanket. That was when he felt something bite him, felt him being pulled violently down and ripping him away from the warmth, the love, the acceptance. He passed Sam crying and clutching his broken body, his blood covering Sam's hands, clothes and face, and the decent into the pit slowed for a moment, as if the hound who had him wanted him to see the devastation this had caused his brother, the devastation that Dean could do nothing about, couldn't protect him from, or even comfort. Then his soul was thrown down so fast into the pit that it felt as if he had been drug across jagged glass and shredded his skin again, this time beyond repair.

Dean shook his head to clear the memory. He had lived through that particular horror and he couldn't stand to relive it again even if it was only in his mind. Focus on the here and now. Focus. He pushed his hair behind his ears.

"It'll be okay Sammy." He forced himself to reassure. He lightly touched Sam's shoulder.

The touch forced Sam to open his eyes. It had been a long time since he had felt his brother's reassuring touch. Longer still since any kind of contact with Dean wasn't anything more than Sam putting a comforting hand on Dean's shoulder during one of his many horrendous nightmares that left his older brother flailing, writhing, screaming, sweating and panicking.

Wide green eyes shown through a film of golden blonde hair, a face so close that he could feel Dean's exhalation of breath against his feverish skin greeted Sam's newly opened eyes. "Dean?" Sam questioned his voice cutting out. Dean blinked and said nothing. Sam hadn't expected him to say anything. He wondered when Dean's silence had become normal. Once upon a time, Sam would have prayed for his brother's silence. Prayed for him to just stop making crude jokes, quit calling him "college boy", quit making him the look like the gay weirdo when they were out on a hunt—just stop talking. Right now, Sam would have killed to be called college boy kill to be the butt of one of Dean's crude jokes. He had killed for it, and now the joke was on him. He had his brother, killed people to have his brother sitting here right in front of him, and the kicker was, Dean didn't speak, he didn't joke, or play, or laugh, or tease. Most of the time Dean simply stood or sat there staring out into space, not talking, not eating, not bathing and certainly not being the man Sam knew him to be. He had become a shell. Sam hadn't killed to get the shell back, he could have animated his brother's corpse if he wanted the shell. He wanted the man. He wanted a drink.

"I'm going to flip you over and stitch up your back."

"Okay." Sam said meekly as Dean rolled him over and silently cleaned the area, and began to stitch the area. "Dean, do you remember when we were kids?" He paused waiting for a wise crack or an answer, he received neither. "Remember the first time you had to stitch me up? Your hands shook. I remember they shook because I didn't understand why they did. They never shook when you stitched Dad up. Do you remember what you said when I asked? You said, 'Well Sammy, I never wanted to have to do that for you. I want more for you.' I understand now Dean. Because I want it for you too. I want more for you. I want…." He couldn't finish his sentence. Dean pulled the last stitch through Sam's ragged back, and rested his palm against his skin for a moment, and Sam wanted to wrap himself up in that touch, but Dean stood, put away the kit and sat on his bed and starred at Sam, keeping an eye on him. Sam sighed and wished that Dean would go to sleep, so he could drink himself into unconsciousness.


	6. Time

Dean knew that Sam put drugs into the water he made him drink before bed

Dean knew that Sam put drugs into the water he made him drink before bed. Usually Sam made a comment about him not drinking enough fluids as an excuse. As a way of making himself feel better for drugging his damaged brother. In hell water was something that was only given if you were good, and it usually came with a price. Dean still had a hard time taking the glass from his brother and downing it—still afraid that there would be a price tag attached. And in a sick twisted way there was. He was forced into unconsciousness and he was forced to endure his nightmares. He was forced to relive the experiences that had broken his spirit and almost damaged him beyond salvation. If Sam hadn't rescued him when he did, Dean would have been lost forever; he would have become a thing, a broken spirit, a demon, a monster. As it was, he was barely human—barely living.

Sam hadn't been in any shape to drug him the night Dean stitched up his back. Dean didn't slept, he didn't eat, he didn't drink, he didn't move. He simply watched his little brother sleep. He watched for the rhythmic rise and fall of his back, he listened for the slow breath and the little snore that Sam would emit every now and then. Dean didn't even notice the sun and the moon changing positions, didn't feel the heat of the sun on his back, or the cold of the moon in the sky. He simply sat starring.

Dean detected his brother's change in consciousness the second his breathing changed. He watched Sam in the moonlight and saw one of his hazel eyes, which had dulled in the year that he had been back, starring at him.

"Dean." Sam said softly. Dean didn't reply he simply watched. "Dean how long have you been sitting there?" Dean didn't know. Time wasn't all that important anymore. Time was transitory. Sam had said in one of his endless rambles after he had retrieved Dean from the pit that he had only been gone a week, Dean knew for certain that he had spent more than a week in the pit. All of the things that he had endured couldn't have just happened over one simple week. Seven days. 168 hours. Too much blood, too much pain, too much….just too much had happened for that time frame to be accurate. So, did he know how long he had been sitting there watching his baby brother sleep? No he really and truly did not. Time didn't mean anything. One minute one year. Relative.

"Dean," Sam started again getting up from his position. He looked around the room and noted that it was night. He must have slept for at least twenty four hours. He knew that he had slept for a while, and he had gone to sleep when it was late, so he must have slept at least a day. "Dean, have you moved?" Dean shook his head. Sam closed his eyes and sighed inwardly. He stood and forced himself to get out of bed. His back hurt and he was stiff. Dean untangled his legs from the bed and tried to stand but couldn't. His legs had long since gone numb and he crumpled to the floor. Sam watched Dean fall to the floor and he was at his brother's side instantly despite the pain in his back and sides. "Dean!" he said. Dean didn't say anything and he didn't move. Sam touched his brother and he remained still. He shook Dean. Dean didn't move. Panicked that Dean was dead he touched his brother's chest and felt the steady up and down of inhalation and exhalation and relief flooded his senses. He ran a hand through his hair and sat down next to his brother.

"Dean we can't keep doing this." He said softly. "I need you here with me. I need you back to the way you were. I can't keep doing this man. I can't watch you lie there, obviously in pain. I can't Dean. I need you back." And that was when Sam broke. He pulled is long legs up and drew his knees underneath his chin and allowed himself to cry. Dean, trapped inside his own head, heard his brother's tears and wanted to be able to get out and help him. But he couldn't. He couldn't leave his protective shell. The demons would come for him. They would take him back to hell, they would make him something he wasn't. One single tear betrayed him and fell down his pale cheek as he listened to his brother sob.


	7. Memories

AN: I know after last night's trauma... But here is the next chapter. Turns out this story is now officially an AU

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They were once again in the Impala, driving to a destination in which Dean didn't know. Sam had told him but Dean was too busy trying to figure out how to talk to his brother again, rather than paying attention to wherever USA they were headed to take out whatever supernatural thing had revealed themselves to normals and ripped their reality away.

After Sam's late night sob session, sobs that sounded so familiar, familiar in a way that Dean didn't like. Dean decided to be brave, just like his mother would want him to be, risk the demons coming for him, and try his damndest to open up to his brother. The sobs that had poured from his brother had sent stabs of pain through the older Winchester's body. Those sounds were the beginning of what Dean knew of as Hell. They were the opening ceremonies, they were his entrance exams. If he screamed, he passed, if he failed, well they could find other horrors—did find other horrors.

After Sam had finished sobbing, Dean had watched his younger brother, who had thought that he was sleeping, dig into his duffel bag and pull out a bottle of whisky. He watched Sam drink two bottles complete.

"I don't know how to help you Dean." he slurred as he drank down another long draught. Dean had remained silent and tears continued to track down his face, pool at the end of his angular nose and drip silently onto his hand. The liquid sloshed back into the bottle.

"It's been over a year." A deep swallow of the alcohol followed. "Did you want to stay in hell?" Sam tilted the bottle and his face backward to make sure he got every single last drop of the intoxicating drink, when his face and the bottle came back down; tears were flowing down his face also. "What did they do to you Dean?" His voice had been so soft and weak that Dean had barely heard him say it. "I miss you so much." The sentence was punctuated with a sob. "I want you back." Sam said right before he passed out for the night.

Dean pulled himself out of the memories of last night and back into the here and now. Not that the here and now Sam was any better than the drunk Sam of last night. Today, Sam was wearing sunglasses and looked like he was battling a really big headache. With the amount of alcohol he had consumed last night, Dean was more surprised that his brother was still functional, much less able to drive the car without any kind of impairment.

"I didn't want to stay there." Dean forced out. The sound startled Sam. So much so that Sam took his eyes off of the deserted highway for a good thirty seconds. Sam had no idea what his brother was talking about, the hotel, the town, the state….hell?

"Stay where?" Sam asked slowly as he turned his eyes back to the road. Dean had been working himself up to speak to his brother about anything other than their job since he Sam has passed out last night. That was over ten hours ago. It was easier to say something-anything about a hunt, it was easy to take orders and to obey them, God was it easy to obey them, but speaking about something anything from the weather to a movie to what had happened to him took more effort than it ever had before his trip to Hell. And now, Sam wanted to hold a conversation. Dean bit his lip.

"Hell." He said in a whisper. It took just about all he had to come out of his shell that much, to say just that little bit, to admit that, to allow the world at large to hear that he didn't want to be in Hell. Demons could hear anything anywhere. They could come get him and make sure he went back to Hell. Since they knew for certain now that the words had been spoken aloud, they might come for him, and what if Sammy wasn't strong enough to do anything about it? He hadn't been the first time. Why would he be now?

"Dean?" Sam started. "What did they do to you?" Dean was silent. He stayed silent. The memories of what the hell spawn had done to him was still too fresh, too present. He couldn't admit it out loud. He couldn't tell anyone what had happened. Not yet. Not while the demons were still out there, possibly waiting for him to start speaking. Waiting for him to admit his weaknesses, waiting to start hurting him again.

Sam turned to look at his brother every couple of seconds, waiting for Dean to say something. To answer his question. To be present again, in every sense of the word. But Dean didn't open. He shut down tighter, hunching against the passenger's side door, face turned away from Sam. Sam sighed inwardly. Sam wanted to forget. He wanted to go back. He wanted….he wanted….he wanted his life back.


	8. Plaything

Exorcisms were absolutely never ever easy

Exorcisms were absolutely never ever easy. Sam always felt bad for the host body. He had once been that host body and he remembered just how much the holy water laced beer had burned and sizzled his throat and made his stomach gurgle and churn in pain. So he knew full well just how bad this host body was hurting. Sam, however, did not feel an inkling of sympathy for the demon that inhabited this poor sap.

Sam hadn't intended to go demon hunting ever again, despite all of the phone calls from hunters who claimed that Sam and Dean were the foremost authorities on actually killing and exorcising demons. Sam often chuckled when they said that; Dean would have given anything to not be an authority. Sam would give his right arm not be an authority. He hadn't experienced hell in the same manner his brother had, but he had gone down into the pit, guns blazing, and retrieved his brother's soul. He never ever wanted to go back there. Never want to have to go back and retrieve someone he loved half as much as his brother.

No, this demon had come out of the woodwork, and apparently Dean's experience in hell had some lasting side effects other than his silence and lack of interest in anything he once loved. Dean saw the demon in his true form, just as he had on his final day on earth. However, this time when Dean saw the demon from the window of the Impala his whole body trembled and he grabbed Sam's coat and the tremors were so violent that Sam thought he was having another seizure similar to the one he had had when his body and soul reconnected. The seizures had happened at least once a week for the first month or so. Seizures were not something Sam had been prepared for. When his brother had started shaking on the floor Sam hadn't known what to do. Bobby had been the one to point out that he was seizing and not dying. Those tremors had scared Sam, more than he had ever let on. He was afraid that he would loose his brother again and this time he wouldn't be able to fetch him back, wouldn't want to fetch his brother because now that his soul wasn't bound to hell he would most certainly go to heaven where he belonged and he couldn't--wouldn't drag his brother away from their mother and father. He would just shoot himself and join them all.

"What is it Dean?" he asked once he realized that Dean was in a state of panic and not seizing.

"D—" he began stuttering. "D..de…demon." He finally managed and then he slid off of the seat and cowered in the leg area in the passenger's seat and became a puddle of hair and clothes. It took everything in Sam's power not to just jump out of the car and strangle the man for making his fearless older brother cower in the car like a child who was afraid of a beating.

Instead, Sam had memorized the man's face and took Dean back to the motel. Calming Dean enough to get him out of the car was a trick and a half. Dean was positive they were coming after him and would take him and drag him back to hell. What worried Sam was that his brother might be right.

"Please Sammy. Don't let them take me again. Please." He had whimpered and clung to his brother's coat so tightly that Dean's fingers had turned white. If he had nails, Dean had long ago taken to biting them down until they started to bleed, Sam would have had a hole in his jacket.

Once out of the car it had taken everything Sam had to get his brother to use the bathroom, to eat, to do anything. After an hour of trying Sam was able to get Dean in a state where he would take water. Sam had drugged the water a whole lot more than usual. He had to keep his brother out in order to be able to leave the motel room long enough to get rid of the evil son of a bitch who was scaring his fearless older brother. He waited for the drugs to course through Dean's body before he pried Dean's fingers out of his coat and arranged him in the bed to sleep comfortably. That meant stretching out limbs, and putting a hand underneath his brother's pillow to touch his comfort knife.

Once Dean at least appeared to be comfortable, Sam put salt around his brother's bed, the window and once out the door he put it in front of the door. Nothing supernatural was going to get into his brother's room. Sam Winchester was going to hunt himself a demon.

And that was what had led him to be in an abandoned warehouse with the man who had been standing in front of the restaurant this morning pouring holy water down his throat.

"You think that holy water hurts?"

"I know it does." Sam said coldly.

"It doesn't hurt nearly as much as being in hell. I'd rather drink gallons of holy water than go back to hell. Especially now that the play thing is gone." Sam cocked his head slightly and the demon laughed. "Oh you didn't know? You took away the toy. He kept the big demons busy while the rest of us got out. You're brother was a wonderful toy. If we were good we got to play with him." Sam's nostrils flared with anger and he threw more holy water onto the demon. The smoke rose around Sam and the demon and they were locked in a stare. Sam's was deadly as knives coming at your face and the demon's was laughing, mocking.

"What did you do to my brother?" Sam demanded.

"Me? Personally? Nothing. No. I did get to watch though. What a brilliant thing it was to watch your brother's hand be cut off every single time he reached for something to eat. Every single time he went for the cheeseburger my friend just cut off his hand and forced Dean to watch blood spurt out of the limb. And when that didn't make him scream anymore, my friend poisoned the food." The demon began to laugh uproariously. "One time. He ate something, oh what was it? Oh something sweet, your brother really has a sweet tooth, anyway, he took it and ate it and it made him…" the demon laughed. Sam, quick as lightning had the knife he stole from Ruby under the demon's throat. The demon chuckled.

"Made him what?" Sam's voice was so cold it could make steel brittle. The demon smiled.

"It disfigured his body. We put him in a room of mirrors and made him watch as his skin turn green, watch his fingers fall off, watch and feel his eye disintegrated into thick gelatinous goo and poured down his pustule ridden skin. But just so he wouldn't miss the show, a third eye grew out of his forehead that was when he screamed. He screamed louder when his legs disintegrated and—" Sam shoved the dagger into the demon's throat stopping the explanation. The light show ensued, allowing Sam the small pleasure of knowing the demon was well and truly dead.

No one did things like that to his brother and lived. The host body, unable to be saved, fell forward blood oozing out of the neck wound. Sam wiped the blade against the man's shirt.

"You son of a bitch." He said. He pulled out a flask and took a long draught of the whisky that resided in there.


	9. Guilt

The motel room was darker than it had been when Sam had gone demon hunting. Shadows seemed elongated, casting the room in an eerie darkness that was oppressive. He shut the door softly even though he knew that his brother had enough drugs in his system that a small earthquake shouldn't rouse Dean from his slumber. He slumped down onto his own bed starring at his brother. He couldn't even muster up the energy to take off his coat. He was exhausted, sad, and just a little tipsy.

The demon's words played over and over again in his head. Dean a play thing. Dean as an animal whose only purpose was to amuse his sick demented owners. Owners that enjoyed the squeals and howls of pain like children enjoyed the sound of the ice cream truck. A sudden image of a demon licking the blood from his brother's severed hand like an ice cream cone, flashed through Sam's head, and was chased by the image of his brother lying on the ground clutching the stump that remained screaming in pain so loudly that his vocal chords had ceased to make sound, his face contorted, mouth open, eyes shut, veins popping out of his neck as he rolled around on the filthy floor trying to get away from the pain, the agony, the disfigurement, Sam forced himself out of the mental image and as a parting gift a shiver ran the length of his body as if the demon had whispered something down his neck. He pulled out his flask again with shaking hands and took a long, long, pull from it.

"Surely that demon was lying." Sam said aloud, not sure why he was speaking. Dean wouldn't hear him. "At least I know now why you won't eat." Sam sighed and looked at his hands in his lap. The skin on his fingers was cut, red, and raw around his fingernails. Chewing them had become a pass time not long after Dean had made his voyage to hell. Sam's fingers found their way back into his mouth as he watched Dean as he started to toss and turn, obviously disturbed by the images running through his head. The drugs in Dean's system should keep him so unconscious that he couldn't dream. Sam wondered if his brother was dreaming about his hand being cut off or his body being metamorphosed into something disgusting.

Sam watched as the Winchester stubborn streak allowed his brother to wake despite the drugs that Sam knew were circulating throughout Dean's body. Dean turned, saw Sam and his drug clouded eyes fixed on his brother for a moment.

"No more drugs Sammy." He slurred.

"You need sleep Dean."

"No more drugs." He repeated and drew his knees up so that he was laying in the fetal position. "It's like being back there." He said softly and closed his eyes. Sam sat there shocked. He had made his brother relive hell. He had sent his brother down there the first time—been unable to save him—had forced him down there by not taking action against Jake. And here he was again, pushing him back down into the pit, making him relive the horrors, horrors that he had just begun to understand, this time with drugs. He took another drink.


	10. Suffering in Silence

Dean not taking the sleeping pills at night meant that he wasn't sleeping more than a few hours a night, and if Dean wasn't sleeping than neither was Sam

Dean not taking the sleeping pills at night meant that he wasn't sleeping more than a few hours a night, and if Dean wasn't sleeping than neither was Sam. It wasn't like Dean was great for conversation, but Sam couldn't bare the thought of him awake and alone. Dean had spent enough time alone in the pit and he didn't want to add to it. Correction, he didn't want to add any MORE to it. Sam had done enough damage as it was.

The fifth night of less than two hours of sleep left Sam wanting to claw his own eyes out. They had moved from a motel room to an abandoned house, one that was tucked far enough away from civilization that probably few people new that the house existed and even fewer would be likely to find the two of them. He hadn't been able to sneak a drink in the days that his brother had been awake and he really and truly needed one right now.

The nights started out now with Sam sitting inside the salt ring beside the mattress that was serving as Dean's bed, watching over his brother, waiting and praying that he would fall asleep. And then, when he blissfully did, Sam would lie down and try to sleep as well. But, like clockwork, Dean would wake screaming, eyes wild unable to focus on anything, hands clutching the thin blanket that Sam had covered him with, cold sweat dripping down his face, hair plastered to his head and face with sweat within a half an hour of falling asleep. Dean's screams would wake Sam from a dead sleep and he would sit straight up and reach for Dean, barely conscious of anything other than that Dean needed him, and Sam wanted to be there for him, he really did. He wanted to be able to get Dean better; he wanted to make Dean, Dean again. It was beginning to become normal that Sam would cry the same silent tears that Dean would cry when he awoke from his nightmares. Sometimes Sam wondered if these dreams, that seemed to be nothing more than memories relived in his brother's unconscious, were a way for the demons to keep screwing with Dean, a way to keep him out of the game and therefore, keeping Sam out of the game. Because in the last five days, they had not even thought about hunting much less actually looking for something to hunt.

Truth be told, Sam, for the first real time in his life, was itching for a hunt. Not just any hunt but a hunt involving demons. He had never liked demons, especially since Meg had taken his body on a joyride, but now, well now, Sam wanted to destroy anything demonic. He no longer cared if there was an innocent trapped inside; he just wanted to destroy the evil fucks that destroyed his brother. Sam looked over at Dean, who was looking out the window, his profile hardly recognizable with the full beard encrusting his gaunt angular face, the long hair Sam had made him wash this morning in the river, was pulled back with a strip of leather. However, just the fact that his brother had enough hair to put into a tail bothered Sam more than he understood. But there was nothing Sam could do to fix that terrified look in Dean's eyes. Nothing he could do to take that away from him. Sam sighed. He wished that he could get some sleep, he wished that he could have a drink, he wished that his brother hadn't been taken to hell, he wished that he hadn't been such a coward and not killed Jake before Jake had killed him…he wished…that wishes could come true. He rubbed his tired eyes and tried to keep the sigh inside this time.

Dean heard every single movement and breath his brother took. He felt like he was fighting against a current, he felt like he was drowning, and he had no idea how to get out. He knew, somehow, that Sam knew more about Dean's time in hell than he had shared with his brother. As a matter of fact, Dean had shared absolutely nothing about his time in Hell so if his brother knew anything it was because of the demon that he had killed a week ago. Dean wondered if the demon told him just how cowardly Dean Winchester had been, how he had wept every single time they had cut off his hand and he was forced to watch the stump exsanguinate.

Or the first time they had cut off his hand he has screamed like a girl, he had been so panicked and scared and he had actually called out for Sam. The demons laughed when he had called out for his brother, reminded him that a real man wouldn't be calling out for his baby brother. That a real man would just take his lumps, and that obviously Daddy Winchester hadn't taught him well, because they had done the same or worse to him and he hadn't even flinched or screamed. Dean had hardly heard half of what they said because of the pain horror and shock of the whole thing overwhelmed him. The demons, once the pleasure of his screams was over, decided to force the screaming to stop and have a little fun while doing it. So, instead of taking his voice away, or even slitting his throat they had forced his handless, still bleeding, arm into his mouth and his screams were silenced and replaced with chocking. Then they had forced him to eat his own arm to the elbow.

If Sam knew that….

"What did the d…d…d.." Dean tried to collect himself. Tried to force out the words. "demon tell you?" he asked in a rush. The word 'demon' still stuck on his tongue but at least it was out.

Sam turned to look at Dean, he hadn't moved from the window he was looking out of. His body was significantly more rigid than the last time he had looked, but his eyes never moved from the swaying trees that were just outside the cabin. Sam briefly wondered if his brother actually just spoke of if it was his own tired mind playing tricks on him,

"What did it say?" Dean repeated more softly.

"I know why you won't eat cheeseburgers anymore." Sam said unable to force himself to repeat the horrors they had performed on his brother. Dean gave a small nod, almost imperceptible. "I'm so sorry Dean." Sam said with tears in his eyes. Dean got his answer, and he knew now that his brother looked at him as weak. Looked at him as something to be protected and sheltered and not something that was capable of protecting and sheltering.

Sam watched Dean give one long fluid blink, resituate himself on the chair he was sitting on and continue to stare out the window.

"I need you to talk to me." Sam pleaded. "I need.." Dean had shut himself off to the outside world again, closed himself off from everything including Sam. Sam ran a hand over his eyes and did what the Winchesters did best—he suffered in silence.


	11. Annointed One

AN: I wanted to thank every single one of you for reading this story. I love hearing from all of you! Please please please let me know what you think!

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The last hunt that Sam had been on was killing the demon that told him that his brother had functioned as a play thing for demons while he had been in hell. That was the last time Dean didn't have a panic attack at the very mention of Sam leaving without him. The thing was, Dean refused to go far from the little run down house they had made their home. It took three hours to get him in the car to go to the store just to stock up on food. It took another three hours to get him to sit at a bar while Sam hustled for food money.

It was midnight and Sam couldn't recall the last time he had slept. Couldn't recall the last time Dean had slept.

"Dean, dude. You need sleep. I need sleep. Come on." Dean didn't move from his position at the window his eyes remained fixed on a point out in the middle of nowhere, blinking was rare, and moving was even more rare. Resigned to the fact that Dean wasn't going to move without prompting, Sam pulled his heavy six foot four frame from the floor and shuffled to his brother. He grabbed Dean's arm and Dean violently pulled away.

"No." he said clearly.

"Dean. You need sleep."

"Leave me alone."

"Dean." There was no response. Sam grabbed his arm again and before Sam knew what was going on Dean grabbed his arm and he threw Sam down on the ground and had a knife to his throat. Dean looked fierce, fiercer than he had been since he returned from hell. Sam swallowed and felt the knife shave a layer of skin off of his neck.

"Leave me alone Sam."

"No." Sam said without fear. There was no fear any longer, only helpless despair. Fear had been when he had lost his brother, fear had been trying to dig Dean out of hell, fear had been taking his soul out of his body and sending it down into hell to retrieve his brother's broken and battered soul. A clump of hair, shorter than the rest, fell into his brother's face. "You need to talk to me Dean." Dean swallowed and dug the knife into Sam's neck a fraction more and blood leaked from the wound.

Dean's eyes widened just a touch. The smell of his brother's blood had reached his nose and the smell sent him back, sent him back to a place where the scent of blood was all around, human blood that was mixed with something darker, wrong "What? You going to slit my throat? Going to kill me? Then what? Are you going to sit by that window, stare into the great wide nothing and wait to die?" Sam's voice rose with each question, becoming more forceful and angry. "I did not march into hell only for you to let yourself die. You are not going to waste my efforts just because you don't want to deal with what happened to you." Dean's breath was coming faster and harder, his eyes were fixed and his pupils huge, Sam noted that the hand holding the knife against his throat was shaking. Dean was getting ready for a breakdown. Sam just hoped that the breakdown would start only when he had moved the knife away from his throat.

"You have no idea." Dean said in a whisper as he shook his head. More hair fell from the leather strap that was trying in vein to keep all of Dean's thick brown hair back, making Dean look more like a scared child rather than a hardened hunter. In one sudden movement Dean rolled away from Sam taking the knife with him. "You have no idea Sam. Just leave it alone." Dean said laying on his back, chest heaving with unshared emotion, knife clattering against the hardwood floor as he put his hands to his eyes trying to keep the light and Sam out. Sam would not be as easily swayed as the light.

He too remained on his back and he starred at the ceiling. "I have an idea Dean. The demon told me some of it." He said in a sense repeating what he had said earlier in the week. "I know what they did to your hand." Dean began to shake. "I know what they did once that didn't frighten you anymore." Tears streamed down Dean's face. He didn't, couldn't, take his hands from his face, meet Sam's gaze, couldn't face Sam's gaze, couldn't confirm that he was disgusted by his lack of courage, he couldn't face the light. "You are the bravest person I know Dean." Sam said simply choosing his words carefully. "Please talk to me." he said softly.

Dean didn't believe his brother's words. All of his time in hell had taught him to be wary of everyone. Especially if they were a demon. And Sam was the anointed child of the yellow eyed demon.


	12. I knew

As Sam spoke the cut on his neck that Dean had inflicted began to ooze blood and drip down his neck. Dean had instantly smelled the demon in the blood. The panic had set in and Dean had begun to shake. Violently shake. He was paralyzed. He couldn't' make himself move. This demon wearing his brother's face was going to torture him just as the others had. This time, there would be no hand growing back, if the demon made him eat his arm to his elbow there would be no stopping it, and this time he would choke on his own mangled flesh and die. There would be no more resurrections for Dean Winchester if that happened.

Sam was actually able to hear his brother's body tremble. He turned to Dean and watched his body shake hard against the floor felt his body shake against the floor like those vibrating beds that Dean had loved so much once. Watching his brother's body shake momentarily slipped him back in time to when he was pinned against the wall and Dean was writhing on the ground trying to get away from the vicious hell hound attack. Sam shook himself. He had to get out of that memory. He could NOT relive that. Not again. Not after he had had his brother back for a year.

Sam touched Dean's shoulder and he cringed.

"Dean?" he asked softly confused by his brother's reaction.

"Get away from me." He said in a small scared voice.

"Dean, it's me Sammy." Sam said using the name he had tried to shed most of his life.

"You're a demon." Dean said his voice quaking. He scrambled to get up and he ran to the nearest corner of the room and huddled down, pulling his arms over his head and face. Shock wasn't an adequate adjective to describe Sam's current state. The accusation of demon sang through his body. Not long ago, Sam had been afraid that the demon blood coursing through his veins qualified him for the demon book club. Sam had decided on his own that he would never join that particular book club. His brother had made him promise before he died and Sam never broke a promise with his brother. Sam felt his bottom lip tremble and he pulled it in between his teeth hoping to stop the quiver that would inevitably lead to tears. Sam stood and went to his brother, Dean huddled in on himself tighter, Dean was trying to disappear, trying to get away from the demon he perceived him to be.

"Dean, it's me." he said again in a small voice.

"I won't let you." Dean said hoarsely. The trembling seemed to be getting worse. Sam couldn't for the life of him figure out what had happened to cause his brother to go into this fit.

"You won't let me do what?" Sam asked as he sat down Indian style in front of his crouching brother.

"You've done this before." Sam closed his eyes frustrated. These half sentences, half truths weren't helping him.

"What have I done before?"

"You aren't Sammy. Last time…you made me fall for it….thought I was safe…..let Sammy close…." Sam's jaw clenched when he realized that Dean wasn't going to give details. He looked at the ceiling and wished that he still had the faith that he had when he had gone on the road with his brother almost four and half years ago. He wished that he believed in God enough to pray to him to help his brother. But truth of the matter is when God had let his brother sell his soul, let his soul be drug down to the fiery pits of hell, he had decided that God didn't need his faith anymore. God would do just fine without his worship. However, Sam just wished for a moment that a higher power would help him to get his big brother to open up. To get him off of this filthy floor and back to himself.

"Dean, I'm not a demon." He said as he pulled both his button down and his t-shirt over his head and grabbed Dean's hand.

"No!" he started to scream like a child who was being drug away from its mother against his will. "No!" Sam struggled to get Dean's hand away from his body, but Sam was stronger than his brother now. Sam had spent time training, time hunting, time moving, where as Dean's once powerful body had been left unexercised. While Dean had gone hunting since he had gotten out of hell he hadn't really made much effort to make sure he was in fine physical shape, his physical mimicked his mental, which was reflective of his soul. All were damaged and were the reason for him pulling so hard against Sam.

"Come on you stubborn ass." Sam mumbled while Dean was screaming 'no'. He finally got Dean's hand, palm spread, over the tattoo over his heart. Dean stopped screaming when his hand came in contact with the flesh. His breath still coming in quick gasps, he slowly pulled his head up from his cocoon of hair and body.

"It's me Dean." Sam said softly. Dean's wild eyes looked up at Sam's. He seemed to be considering something. Sam took that as a good thing, hoped it was a good thing.

"How?"

"What?"

"You smell like a demon." He finally managed after a few false starts.

The comment took Sam aback. Dean could identify demons on sight and apparently he could detect them via scent as well. His grip, which had been vice like against Dean's wrist, slackened and there was no indication that Dean was going to take his hand from the tattoo. Sam swallowed and finally said, "Visions. Yellow eyed demon." Sam struggled. He never wanted Dean to know about the demon blood.

"You knew?" Dean's voice had never come up above a whisper. Sam couldn't look his brother in the eye.

"Yeah. I knew."


	13. Sammy

Dean had closed in upon himself after that little tid bit of information. Sam had tried in vein to get him to open back up and say something, anything really but Dean couldn't do it. Just couldn't. Knowing that Sammy had demon blood coursing through his body was almost more then he could handle.

Sam had stood inside a devil's trap that Dean himself had drawn almost immediately after taking residence in this long abandoned home, demonstrating that he could walk in and out of it freely, he drank a completely gallon of holy water that Dean had made the other day in one of his panic attacks. That panic attack alone had produced ten gallons of holy water, more devil's traps than he could count and salt lines, not just at doors and windows but at the threshold of every single room in the house. That didn't count that night when he had pulled Sam into a salt circle, clutched his baby brother's arm so tightly that the following morning there a purple and green handprint, that fit Dean's hand perfectly, circling Sam's arm, and to complete Dean's frantic protective panic attack he made Sam stay there until he was convinced there were no demons anywhere in the area.

And now, less than three days later Dean was huddled in a corner, with a salt ring around him trying to prevent his brother from over stepping the boundary. While his brother frantically recited every single exorcism ritual he knew, and Sam had a vast knowledge of all exorcisms since the demons had come after them full force, Dean sat there and shook and rocked himself back and forth waiting for the black smoke to come billowing out of his brother's body.

When Dean hadn't moved from his huddled position Sam had pulled at his own hair and screamed. Dean flinched and tightened in on himself. The last time Sam had screamed like that was when Meg had been expelled from his body. A demon. It was a wordless scream that echoed throughout the room. Sam lowered his face and through hair and tears Dean saw tears streaming down Sam's face. Sam lowered his hands, and there were long strands of hair caught in his fingers, Sam had managed to pull out some of his own hair in his sadness, despair and frustration. Mewling emitted from Dean's throat and Sam roughly wiped away tears and heavily walked away from his brother.

Inside, inside that locked part of his soul where Dean, the Dean that had gone to Hell, that knew his baby brother inside and out, who loved classic rock, hamburgers with extra onions, who loved driving his Impala, believed Sam and wanted to run to him and tell him that he understood and that demon blood or no demon blood he was still his brother. But that part of Dean's soul was very small now. Too many memories, too many horrors.

The demons had tried the Sammy card with him while he was in hell. One of their favorite tricks, because it worked every single time, was Sam coming for him, telling him that he and Bobby had found a way to save him, that he was talking to him in his mind, that he needed to follow these simple instructions and they would be waiting for him on the other side to put his soul back into his body and everything would be all right again. The first time he had followed directions he had been greeted by his brother, Dean had gone to him, Dean had thrown his arms around him and the embrace had been returned with a knife in the stomach, When he pulled away, he looked down at the wound with the knife sticking out of it in shock, and when he heard a laugh that sounded so much like Sammy's but it was filled with malice and hate. He looked up and Sam's eyes were black, demon black and he smiled.

"Thought I would actually let you out of hell? You are more stupid than I ever gave you credit for." He pulled the knife out of his stomach and pushed Dean onto the floor, he pinned his brother down and held the knife to his throat and began making small slits in Dean's skin, just deep enough to bleed not enough to cause damage.

"You died to save a demon. You know that right? I've been in Sam's body for years. You never even noticed. Some brother you are." The laughter again and then the plunge of the knife into his right eye, when the plunge elicited a scream from the depths of Dean, a scream that was full of pain of both the physical and of the heart, the demon, relishing in the sounds and wanting them to continue, turned the knife in a complete 360 degree circle. That had been his first encounter with Sam trying to save him. Demons found that absolutely delicious.

So, now here he sat in his salt circle, the small part of his soul trying to convince the rest of him that the man in the other room was no demon no matter what his blood might smell like, desperately trying to forget the sound of the laugh, the demon eyes settled into the spot where Sam's tender hazel ones usually resided, and the pain of his eye being destroyed. The shaking wouldn't stop.

Sam sat against the wall, the wall that Dean was leaning against on the other side. He took a swig of hard liquor, actively dulling the pain, and cried.


	14. Help

Author's Note: Warning--swearing

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Sam had been steadily drinking for a couple of hours now. The tears had long ago dried up. He was at a complete loss. How in the world was he supposed to help Dean when Dean wouldn't even come near him now? When he was little he would have asked Dean what to do. Hell a year or so ago he would have asked Dean what to do. He always had Dean there to help him through the tough stuff. Dean had never been an emotional person, but he always knew exactly what to say to make Sam see what was right in front of him, and right now he would have given his right arm for that advice.

"What do I do, Dean?" he said aloud. Dean heard him and he rested his head against the wall. "I don't know how to help you." He took a drink from the bottle of Jack. He laughed bitterly and looked down into the bottle. "For a whole year I was hell bent on keeping you out of hell." He chuckled again. "What a failure I was huh? Couldn't keep you out of hell. Nope. No sir re bubskie." Drink. Slosh. Back of the hand across the mouth.

"It took me a freaking week….a week….seven days….168 hours to get you out of hell." Drink. Look inside the bottle. Throw the empty container across the room. Pull the duffel closer and take a fresh one out of the bag. Crack it open. Drink.

"Now look at you. Huddled in the corner. Like a child afraid of a storm. It's been over a year now. I thought we'd be back to normal again. Fighting evil. Helping people." Drink. "We aren't even helping ourselves. Can't even get you to cut your hair. You used to look so cool. So, James Dean." Manic laugh. Drink. "Can't even get you in water without you flailing and screaming." Drink. "I missed you so much." Voice hitched. Drink. Try to get the lump out of his throat.

"I miss you right now. You are right there. On the other side of this God Damned wall!" Pound the wall. Throw head back against the wall. Scream wordlessly. "You are right here! You are right there and I can't even talk to you! I need to talk to you. I need you Dean!" Fist meets wall. Blood. Drink. "I need you to protect me because I suck at protecting you. I need you to protect you. I need you to talk to me. I fucking need you!" Sam started to cry again. "I'm sorry." He said and held himself tightly. "I'm so sorry Dean." He started rocking back and forth. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry." Sobs. A hand on his shoulder. Startled. Look up. Alcohol glazed eyes meet fear laced green ones.

Dean licked his lips. "Sammy." The small part of Dean, the Dean before the trip to hell was fighting for dominance. Fighting through the fear. Fighting through all of the damage. He didn't know how long he could hold on, but he was certain that it wouldn't be very long. "I'm here Sammy." His voice wasn't strong. Sam launched himself onto his brother and hugged him. Dean felt his hold slipping. Being held down was just too much. Too much. Chains. Meat hooks. Shackles. Demons. Heart being cut out of his chest. Blood. Organs. Organs in his mouth. Fear boiled over and he screamed.


	15. Wrong

A/N: Some not so nice language in the middle. Just warning.

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Sam, startled by the scream, let his brother go, but the screaming didn't stop. The scream was blood curdling, ear splitting loud. His eyes were wide, pupils dilated, body ramrod straight. Sam's alcohol addled brain focused on the position and made him see the last time his brother was laying on the floor and fear etched onto his face. Blood had been all over him then, blood had bubbled up from his skin, had squirted out from arteries that had burst under the hell hounds claws, that was propelled by a heart that was pumping hard with adrenaline and fear, a heart that had always cared for Sam, protected Sam, and was pumping the last of it's life blood for Sam. The dead eyes the dead stillness in Dean's body flashed back, so vivid that for a moment he thought his brother was still dead, thought that Dean Winchester was lost to the world for eternity, stuck, tethered, shackled, to the depths of despair and pain, screaming in agony and fear.

The dead silence in the room startled Sam into the present. Sam looked down, Dean's mouth was slightly parted and he looked still as death. Panic rose to his throat and bubbled out, "Dean?!" He shook his brother a little harder. Then a single tear slid down his face and Sam felt the relief as he noted that his brother's chest rose and fell no matter how slowly.

He picked Dean up and clutched him to his chest, he hugged him with everything he had. Dean started to scream again and that just made Sam hold him tighter. Dean began to flail and pound against Sam's back, pulled his hair and Sam was fairly certain that Dean had clumps of his hair in his fists that were pounding with all of his force against Sam's back. Maybe it was the alcohol or the nearness of his brother, a nearness that he hadn't had since his return from hell, but he wasn't feeling Dean beating him. Didn't feel his brother sink his teeth into his shoulder, or feel his pinching. Didn't feel the blood drip down his back, didn't feel any of it.

"Dean!"

"Let me go you God damn fucking demon!" Dean screamed. He flailed harder as Sam held him tighter. "Let me go!" A wordless scream followed.

"Dean!" Sam shouted. "Dean! It's me! It's Sam! It's Sammy!"

"I'm not falling for it again!" He bit down on Sam's shoulder. Sam grunted.

"It's me Dean." he said more softly. "It's really me." Tears began to trickle out of Sam's eyes as his brother continued to flail.

"Please." Dean began to sob. "Please, don't do this to me again. I can't do it again. Please. Please." Sam pulled Dean forward so he could see his brother's face and it was contorted into the face of a much younger child scared and alone begging someone who was supposed to care for and love them not to beat them senseless. "I'll do whatever you want. Please don't make me watch Sam die anymore." Sam pushed long hair from Dean's eyes and he flinched back.

"Dean, I'm not going to die."

"Please, no more, no more. I can't take it anymore. Put me back in the chains. Please. Please. I don't want to watch Sammy die anymore. Please…." Dean curled into himself and whimpered and cried. The hard won control he had gained to comfort his brother was gone, and the Dean inside, the undamaged Dean was trapped again inside the prison of bone, flesh, pain, and fear. He had thought that Meg had meant Hell looked like that. No, he had been wrong; Hell was getting out and not being able to get a grip on yourself or your life again.

Sam was lost. Dean was lost.


	16. Protect Sammy

A/N: Just a warning, there is swearing in this chapter

* * *

Lost for Sam meant looking for himself in the bottom of a bottle of whisky while watching his brother lie on the cold dirty floor shivering.

"'Member when we were kids, Dean?" He put a hand on his brother's stomach. "Member how you'd rub my belly when I was sick or scared?" he rubbed lightly in a circle on his brother's stomach. Dean had become so thin that in his prone position you could see his ribs. "Member? I do." He slurred and took another drink. "You always said, 'Sammy, it's okay.'" Sam took another drink. "I always thought you could fix anything. You were just so strong. Kept saying "Sammy you're stronger than me." Kept saying that over and over again Dean, every time we were in that damn car. Kept saying it. I'm not. Never have been." His thoughts were jumbled and his speech in parts incoherent. "Kept telling me that I could do this without you. Stupid yellow eyed demon. Killed mom, killed Jess, killed Dad, killed you and now he's killing me." He took a drink. "Don't know what to do. Don't' know. Want you back. Keep telling you that." He took another long swig found the bottle empty and threw it against the wall it shattered. "God damn it Dean!" He took his hand off of his brother's stomach and held his face in his hands and sobbed.

Lost for Dean was lying on the cold dirty floor feeling his body shiver and feeling the panic attack brewing and swelling trying to encase him and take over. The feeling of Sam's hand on his stomach was making the panic worse than helping. The demons had used childhood memories against him. On one particular occasion they had made him relive the Shtriga incident, except this time Sam had died because of his selfish desire to go out and get some air. The thing about it that made it complete hell and torture was the fact that Dean really and truly believed he was ten years old again, and that he had lost his brother due to his own negligence.

He had had to live his life again, he had to face reality without his brother, he had to live with the burning hate his father had for him, he had to live with the beatings, with the bone crashing beating his father delivered when Dean did something as little as walk in front of the television while his father was watching it. He had to live with the man he became, the man who had no purpose, no drive, who became a killer of men just to feel, who ended up in prison, becoming the bitch of some pedophile that looked at Dean as a thing and not as a person. He treated Dean exactly how he felt he deserved to be treated.

Once he had been killed in that scenario they would put him in the situation where Sam left for Stanford and when Dean had gone to retrieve him because Dad was missing and Sam refused to go, in fact he told Dean he was a son of a bitch and that he never wanted to see his looser ass again, to get off his property or he would call the cops and tip them off and get him sent to federal prison. Said that he hoped the next time he saw Dean would be in a courtroom prosecuting his case. Sam said all of it with such vehemence and hatred that it radiated off of the young college student and he had been forced to leave the apartment and forced to look for their dad again, this time alone, and this time he didn't survive the rawhead. That time he died of a broken and damaged heart. No one ever found his body, no one ever cared. He would always wake up strapped into the chains that resembled a spider web. He would wake up and the hook in his shoulder would cause him to shriek and the metal in his wrists would dig and make him wish for his hands to just be cut off, wish for a reprieve from the pain.

Dean had been swimming in these memories ever since Sam had held him tightly and refused to let go. Forced him back to the spider web of metal and pain, made him feel like he had been on one of his memoric field trips, field trips that resulted in death or his brother with black eyes, or his brother's death. It had been like being sucked backward by a vacuum, sucked back into the pit, back into hell, back into his own mind, back into his own fears and demons and the devil making them reality. His hard won control had not been able to survive, he was forced back into the depths of his psyche and he was trying to swim against the current of pain and panic and was gaining very little ground.

However, hearing the glass shatter against the wall, hearing the pain in his brother's voice made him swim, made him push harder, push with everything he had to come back to him, even if for a moment, just for a moment, just to make his brother stop crying, to make his brother stop drinking, to make his brother his brother again. He would always be his big brother and his job was to take care of Sammy. To protect Sammy. He would do that, even if it was the very last thing he ever did. Protecting Sammy meant everything. Everything.


	17. The Man

Consciousness came back to him in degrees, the feel of the floor hard against his cheek, the taste of cotton in a mouth that was in great need of brushing, eyes gritty with sand and more than likely dirt from the filthy floor boards, light, bright, white

Consciousness came back to him in degrees, the feel of the floor hard against his cheek, the taste of cotton in a mouth that was in great need of brushing, eyes gritty with sand and more than likely dirt from the filthy floor boards, light, bright, white, blinding, greeted his gritty eyes which he promptly snapped shut, rolled over on his back and pressed his large hands against his eyes and tried to grind the grit out of his eyes. He braved opening them and the light hurt, but it was bearable this time. He sat up, the room started to spin. He pressed his palm to his head and once he was able to tolerate the room spinning slightly he stood and looked around, panic grabbed a hold of his stomach and encouraged his stomach to want to puke and his stomach really didn't need any additional encouragement.

"Dean?" he called. No answer. His stomach rolled and churned and when the adrenaline was added to the alcohol his stomach couldn't take it anymore. Sam made it to a corner before the bile and the alcohol came back up. He wiped his mouth with the back of his sleeve. He turned and looked, "Dean!" he called again. He ran all around the house searching for his brother, frantically calling his name. After searching the house he grabbed the keys to the car, threw open the front door and just about stumbled over his brother. There he was sitting on the step to the house. Just starring out into the morning light, just like he did by the window.

"Dean?" He said nothing. His long hair just blew in the breeze, the trees rustled and the only sound was the bird chirping in the distance. Sam lowered his large body down on the step beside him. Dean leaned ever so slightly so their shoulders were barely touching. Dean didn't blink, or make any other type of movement. Sam sighed. Change of setting nothing more.

"When you went to college," his voice was horse from all of the screaming he had done. Sam stilled afraid that he might startle him and he would go back to screaming or worse, running and huddling in a corner claiming that Sam was a demon. "I was so alone." Dean finished.

"When you left it was the worst day of my life." He struggled to clear his throat and to continue. "I was so alone. I had raised you from infancy. I had tied your shoes, made sure your homework was done. I'd done everything for you, and you just vanished one day and never called, never wrote, pretended like I didn't exist. That was hell for me." His voice cracked on the word hell. "I had to relive that day almost every day while I was in the pit." He said and tears fell. "They changed it to keep it interesting. Sometimes you told me I was worthless before you left, sometimes Dad yelled at me because I was a failure, once you hit me before you left, and when I was down, you kicked me, spat on me, and said that you were sorry that I was your brother." The tears streamed down faster and faster.

Sam turned to face his brother. They locked eyes. Dean's eyes held Dean, the man that had raised him, sold his soul for him, Impala driving chick loving jovial brother. Sam wanted to grab him and hug him. "I had to live that every single day. I lived it thousands of times. I've lived the worst day of my life over and over again." Tears streamed down Sam's face now as well. Sam knew what that was like, he knew what it was like to have to relive the worst day of your life. He had done it, thanks to the Trickster. "Sammy, I can't hold on long. To tell you this is costing me. To be able to come out of this panic long enough to talk to you is hard, almost impossible." The life was falling out his eyes, it was like watching his brother fall down a deep pit—fall back into hell. But before it was all gone Dean whispered, "Keep fighting Sammy." And Dean was gone, and the shivering began and the rocking and the fear replaced the man.


	18. The Right Thing

Dean had said to keep fighting. Sam had no idea what he was supposed to keep fighting. Was he supposed to fight Dean's panic, was he supposed to fight demons, and if so how was he supposed to do that with Dean in the state he was in? When Dean had slipped away from him, he had gone for the alcohol, like he did as of late to fix the hurt, to temper the anger, to steel himself for another day of watching his big brother rock and hum and to endure the random screaming and the holing himself up in a corner surrounded by salt.

He had picked up the bottle. He had looked at the bottle. He had opened it. Touched it to his lips. But he stopped. He looked out the open door and watched his brother holding his knees to his chest and rocking back and forth on the porch and suddenly wondered if Dean meant to fight the addiction that he knew was growing, the alcoholism. When they were kids, Dean would take the bottles from their father and hide them or pour them down the drain. He never liked his father to be numbed by drink. Never liked his father to be that vulnerable, to either an attack or to his own emotions. Sam licked his lips, felt the breeze on his face, and took the bottle, all of the bottles he had and emptied them in the grass beside Dean. He looked at his brother and suddenly he understood what Dean meant by "keep fighting." Dean didn't mean fight demons, fight your addictions. He wanted Sam to fight to get him back. Wanted him to fight for Dean's survival. Survival that had nothing to do with his body but all to do with his soul.

Sam thought about it all night, while Dean fell asleep, awoke screaming and panting and started making his loud keening noise. He thought while he held his brother and rocked him, trying to make the nightmares go away. The next morning, when Dean's eyes snapped straight open and he starred up at the ceiling in a panic attack, Sam decided on something. He decided what would at least help him to get his big brother back. He grabbed his brother from his salt circle, endured the beating his brother gave him, allowed his brother to see the tears stream down his face as he wrestled him outside, wrestled him out of his clothes, and wrestled him into the water. He forced his brother down and forced him to allow him to wash his hair and beard, put the soap in Dean's shaking thin hands and forced him to wash his body.

"You have to be clean Dean. You are someone who is fastidious about how you look. You would be so humiliated if you could see yourself. No girl in their right mind would look at you much less give you her number."

"Get your hands off of me!" Dean started screaming. He started in earnest flailing, sending water in great splashes all over Sam and into Dean's eyes. Dean slopped hair everywhere, smacking Sam in the face. Sam grabbed both of his brother's arms and pinned them down to his sides.

"You need to get yourself clean." He said loudly. He held Dean tightly as Dean screamed himself horse, as Dean bit his arms, called him a demon, and told him to get his filthy hell spawn paws off of him, as Dean managed to get a good kick to Sam's knee and then to the jewels. Sam refused to let him go. Refused to allow the panic and the damage that the demons had done to his brother to win out, he had seen his brother, he had heard him, and he wasn't about to let this damaged demon induced thing to swallow up what was left of his brother. Finally, Dean's body tired out and they finished his bath.

Dean shook while Sam redressed him and escorted him back into the house. Once in the house Dean tried to dart for his salt circle in the corner. Sam grabbed his arm and wouldn't' let him go. He pushed and pulled at Dean until he wrestled him into the chair that he had set up in the kitchen. He sat down on Dean's legs, Dean started screaming violently, and as Sam tied him to the chair Dean began to cry, big sobbing tears.

"Please don't' hurt me. Please don't. Please. Let me go. I'll be good. I'll be good. Please." The words pierced Sam, but he refused to let it get to him. Once Sam had secured Dean to the chair he got up and tied his legs to the chair as well. He pulled out the electric shaver and plugged it in, he had secured a small power generator shortly after their arrival, and he grabbed Dean's jaw to hold his head steady.

"Let's hope this is the right setting." Sam mumbled as he began to shave the long hair off of his brother. He did his best to keep his brother's head still, to pretend not to hear the screams, and to get the hair a length that would make him look like Dean again. After he managed to get the hair short he shaved the beard off of his brother. He put the razor down and looked at him, the beard had hid his gaunt and colorless face, had hid the fact that his face looked more like a skull than a face. The hair had helped to camouflage the fact that Dean's eyes had sunken into the skull, had helped to hide the damage the eyes held. He covered his mouth and muffled the scream that was in the back of his throat. This wasn't his brother either. He untied the screaming writhing man and he knocked Sam over in his effort to get back to his salt circle. Sam watched and ran a hand through his own hair. Dean screamed all day and only quieted when he lost his voice. Sam hoped he was doing the right thing.


	19. Caregiver

Three days later he still wasn't sure if the ordeal he had put Dean through was more for him or for Dean

Three days later he still wasn't sure if the ordeal he had put Dean through was more for him or for Dean. While Dean at least looked somewhat like the man that he had been before hell, he still didn't look right. To add to the doubt growing in Sam's mind his brother hadn't moved from his corner salt circle. Dean alternately screamed wordlessly and hummed. Several times a day, Sam forced water down his brother's throat, and he had purchased baby food and force fed him foods to get nutrients in his body, nutrients that Dean had been lacking lately, then there was forcing Dean to go to the bathroom, forcing Dean to get clean every single day. Sam decided when he shaved his brother that he would make him be normal. Would make him do things that normal people did. And by God he was giving it his best. Never mind the fact that he now probably knew Dean's teeth better than any dentist, he had bite marks from his hands all the way up his forearm. Biting seemed to be Dean's preferred method of defense.

It was late on the third day and Sam was sitting in front of his brother on the floor watching him. He had been sitting like that for an hour or so, since the last time he had fed Dean and then had to wash the baby food from his face and hands.

"Dean I know you are in there." He said. Dean was in a silent mode right now, he was just simply rocking and starring. "You came out and told me to keep fighting. Well, I'm fighting. I need you to help, to meet me part ways. What happened to you Dean?" Sam watched his brother's eyes, they never moved from their fixed position just over Sam's shoulder, and he continued to rock back and forth holding his knees close to his chest. "Not too long ago you were at least functional. What happened Dean? How did the panic swallow you deeper? How can I help you fight? I really don't know what to do." Sam sighed and reached out and touched Dean on the arm and he flinched back, but his eyes met Sam's. Sam wanted to recoil when his brother's locked with his. Dean's eyes were cold, bordering on lifeless, the only thing they held was pure unbridled fear.

"Sammy." Dean whispered. Sam's straightened.

"Dean?" he questioned tentatively.

"I know Sammy. I know I wasn't worth it."

"Wasn't worth what Dean? Dean?"

"I didn't ask Dad to do it for me. I didn't ask him to give his life for mine. I know you need him more than--I'm sorry Sam--I know it--please don't leave--Sammy--sorry, Sam, please I need you. Sam!" Dean was having a one sided conversation with himself. Actually he was probably reliving something they had forced him to endure in hell. From Dean's side of things Sam could tell they made him relive the conversation they had had on the hood of the Impala, right after they had put the zombie chick back to rights, and Dean had apologized in his own way for taking their father from him. From the sounds of it, the conversation was going much differently than it had in reality.

"Dean. I'm right here." Sam said gruffly and gripped Dean's arm tighter. "I'm right here." He said with force. Dean's eyes didn't focus; they went back to looking over Sam's shoulder. A large tear, a tear that Dean used to call Sammy alligator tears when they were little and he had fell and scraped his knees, fell from Dean's eyes. He never blinked. He just continued to stare. Sam wiped his own tears away and moved a little closer to Dean.

"Dean. I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry I let you down. I promised that I would get you out of the deal and I failed and because of that you are like this. Dean I'm so sorry." He whispered. "Dean please don't leave me." Sam put his head down on Dean's knee. It was the first time Sam had ever pleaded with Dean not to leave him. He finally understood what it must have been like for Dean to loose him to Stanford, to obsession, to possession, or to death. It was heart wrenching, gut twisting, spine numbing, despair that left you wanting death. Sam was just about to stand and get a drink, he had left one bottle full, when he felt something on his hair. Dean had placed a hand on his head, the same way he used to do when Sam was upset when he was a child. Sam's tears, Sam's despair reached to that part in Dean that was the big brother, that was the care giver and the panic couldn't suffocate and destroy that part of him. Sam stayed in that position as long as he could relishing in the touch that he hadn't had in so long.


	20. Water

Dean changed after that day. He became someone that was semi functional. Sam didn't have to feed him, he didn't have to bathe him, he still had to drag him down to the river, put the soap in his hand, but he didn't have to wash his brother down nor did he have to undress him, and he didn't have to hear the screams, he didn't have to hear the loud keening, he didn't have to clean another bite wound on his arms or hands. Even with all of the changes, he still wasn't Dean, he still wasn't the man that he had allowed to go to hell, the man he hadn't been able to save from the pit that had altered him so much that he was barely recognizable as a person any more. The guilt had finally settled into his stomach, and this was the first time he allowed himself to feel it. Usually he smothered the guilt with something strong, but today, while he sat by a tree and watched as his brother took a bath in the river, he allowed himself to feel it full force.

Dean moved slowly, every single motion with the wash cloth and the soap was precise and methodical. No extra movement, no extra splash. Dean loved water; he loved to swim when they were younger, before his legs were a mess of scars and Dean wouldn't allow anyone to see his legs. When they were little and it had rained hard and fast and the parking lot of the no name motel in which they were staying was full of puddles, he liked to pull Sam outside, under Sam's firm protest that it was more fun to sit inside and read a book than to be outside and jump in the puddles of a dirty grimy parking lot and get wet and dirty. Dean had never listened, always made him go outside, and he would find the biggest baddest puddle and pull Sam right into it and cover him head to toe in water and mud. It always made Sam laugh, and now that he reflected on it, it was one of the rare times that Dean laughed and acted like a kid his age. Dean even liked the rain. When Sam got back from Stanford, Dean would stand outside with a cup of coffee and watch the rain, watch the thunder and lightning, not with a hunter's eye looking for omens in the storm, but appreciation of nature. Once, on a rare night early in their reunion, he had come outside and found Dean standing and starring off into the rain, and in a rare, Dean Winchester reveal, he said "Isn't it amazing? We spend so much time looking for the bad in the world, spilling so much blood, that it is easy to miss this. Nature wipes everything clean with a good rain. My baby is even getting a free bath."

Even now watching Dean in the river reminded Sam of when they were kids and they had to bathe in the river because they had stayed in a place like this. Dean would always yell "Come on Sammy. Live a little." Sam never liked staying in abandoned houses when they were little, but Dean could always found the good in it. Even in something as mundane as taking a bath. He would coax Sam into the river and then would splash him in the face. Before his double digits Sam enjoyed being in the river splashing his older brother, playing in the water as well as getting clean. But when he hit the double digits, that fun stopped, they would bathe separately in the water, it was natural, Sam was getting older, body and mind changing, and it wasn't appropriate anymore. It wasn't natural for them to take baths together, no matter if it was in a river thirty feet apart. He looked back out into the river at the man washing himself quietly, and in the back of his mind he could hear his Dean shout "Come on Sammy." He could see that smile, that smile on a much younger face, on a much happier face, on a face that hadn't had it's soul ripped from its body and sent to hell, because his baby brother couldn't stop it.

He hadn't realized he had closed his eyes and drawn his knees up to his chest. Hadn't realized Dean had gotten out of the water until he put a hand on his shoulder, startling Sam. He looked up, Dean was dressed and his face looked sad, as it always did as of late. "Sammy?" he made it a question. Dean's eyes were still scared, and his body still trembled, but it seemed that since Sam had said he needed him, he had been fighting harder to keep his head above the panic, above oblivion.

"I'm here Dean. Ready to go back inside?" Dean nodded. Sam pulled himself up, put a hand on Dean's shoulder and guided him towards the house. Sam watched as Dean's whole body pulled in the direction of the salt circle in the corner. He watched as Dean struggled to make himself sit down in a chair, struggled to stay there, struggled to keep his hands in his lap. Sam sighed inwardly. He opened up some jars of food for Dean and put them in front of him and sat down beside him and watched as his older brother, the hero of his life, slowly and shakily ate baby food. Sam wanted to look away, but he forced himself to watch, he figured if Dean endured hell, than the least he could do was watch as his hero's mask was removed and revealed the all too normal man beneath the glitz and the mystery of the cape and mask.

Sam's cell rang, startling Sam and making Dean miss his mouth and wear the peas all over his face. Sam answered the cell, "Hello?" and grabbed a cloth and began wiping the mess from Dean's face.

"Sam?"

"Bobby?"

"Where the hell are you kid?"

"Colorado."

"You and your brother dropped off the map."

"Needed time to regroup."

"Why didn't you come here."

"Just wanted it to be us."

"How is he?"

"He's better. Not wonderful, just functional."

"Where are you, I'll meet you out there, give you a break for a couple of days."

"Bobby, no, I'm fine."

"That wasn't a request boy, it was an order." Sam sighed, closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose, and realized that Bobby had already probably put a trace on his phone. It would be no use to try to escape the elder hunter. So, he told Bobby where they were. He hung up the phone, opened his eyes and saw that Dean was gone. Sam jumped up, panicked, knocking the chair over in his speed and haste, and he heard Dean before he saw him. He was back in his salt circle, with his knees up to his chest and rocking and humming. His eyes were wide and wild. What the hell had just happened?


	21. Possession

A/N: Strong language in the middle

* * *

The alcohol in his bag was calling his name, no it had ceased calling to him, it was screaming for him to come and get it and drink it down, allow the numb feeling to come back, ease the guilt, ease the pain he felt with each scream Dean made from his little nest in the corner surrounded by salt. Ever since he had gotten off of the phone with Bobby yesterday Dean had reverted back to the corner, reverted back the loud keening and reverted back to sitting in his corner with his knees drawn up and his arms surrounding them, and holding on so tightly that his knuckles had turned white with the strain.

Sam let the screen door slam behind him, he had to get out of there, had to get away from the bag with the bottle, had to get away from the sound of the broken man inside. He pretended that he was going outside to sit on the porch to wait for Bobby; he had called an hour ago for more specific directions to the house in which they were staying. So, Sam could at least lie to himself and say that he was out there waiting for Bobby and not being a horrible brother and escaping from Dean, Dean who needed him, who was hurting and scared, Dean who trusted him to make things all better.

He put his head in his hands. When had this gotten all screwed up? Oh that's right, the night he turned six months old. Yes, that was it. He heard tires crunching gravel and he looked up, Bobby's car came into view, Sam stood and went to the older man's car to greet him.

"Hey Bobby." Sam said as Bobby stepped out of the old vehicle. Sam wondered what it was with hunters and old cars. New cars moved so much faster and they were less conspicuous when you were on a hunt or when you were being hunted by the police. Sam sighed and chalked it up to one more weird thing about the life of a hunter.

"How are you son?" Bobby asked. Sam shrugged hands deep in his pockets.

"I'm okay I guess." Bobby followed him to the porch, Sam couldn't force himself to go inside, couldn't force himself to face Dean, to show Bobby what Dean had become. Couldn't because he was afraid that Bobby would blame him for Dean's thin face, the uneven hair cut, the pale skin, the lack of muscle on his brother's normally thick body, Sam just couldn't handle it if Bobby blamed him for all of it. Sam blamed himself, he didn't need someone else to blame him as well. Both men sat down on the wood surface and starred out into the thick wooded area and avoided eye contact with the other, each realizing that the other couldn't handle such a scrutiny.

"How's your brother?" Sam let the silence hang and allowed Bobby to hear the high pitch keening which seemed to be louder, or maybe it was just Sam's imagination.

"You hear that?" the elder hunter nodded. "That's how Dean is."

"Doesn't sound good."

"No. That is the understatement of the year. He was doing so good too. The other day he fed himself, went to the bathroom unaided, he even moved around a little, not a lot but a little, he really seemed to be coming out of this. I thought.." Sam trailed off.

"Thought what son?"

"I thought I was stronger than this, I thought Dean was stronger than this."

"Hell is a lot to be strong about."

"Yeah I guess."

"So what has he told you about hell?" Bobby questioned.

"Not a lot. Just bits and pieces."

In the house, Dean was frantic. Something was wrong, something felt off, something smelled off, something was so wrong. The panic he was trapped in again, panic that had been triggered by both of those feelings, didn't want him to get up, didn't want him to move from his nice tidy salt circle. But the protector, the older brother, the man before hell sensed that there was something wrong, something drastically wrong and that Sammy was in the middle of that wrong.

He slowly forced his hands apart, they ached from being clasped together so tightly for over 12 hours, but he forced the arms down, forced his legs to straighten, it was a battle for each movement, it was like making the decision to cut off your hand because you knew the infection would kill you other wise, it was painful to stand, it was almost like a blow to the stomach when he stepped out of the circle. But once out of the circle, once the first two steps had been made towards the door, he knew what was wrong, every fiber of his body sung with the vibrations of the answer. It was an answer he didn't like, it was an answer that terrified him, it was an answer that he had to take care of.

He was reaching for the door knob when he heard Sam fall and a startled noise emit from his throat, if Dean hadn't been positive a second ago, he most certainly was now. He threw open the door and Bobby, or at least what was Bobby on the outside, had Sam pinned to the floor with a knife to his throat.

"Oh lookie here." Bobby's face swirled to Dean. Dean's eyes widened when he saw the black hideousness underneath the face that had always been familiar and warm before. "It's the play thing. Remember me?" The black eyes flashed, Dean knew the demon, knew him very well actually, he had been the one who had inserted needled into his feet and then made him walk and feel as the needles went deeper into his flesh, pierced muscle and tendons, made his feet bleed and made him wish to die. Yes, he remembered this demon.

"I remember you. Get the fuck out of my friend."

"Oh such strong language out of a toy." The demon turned to Sam. "You see I spent quite a few hours with your brother, he is quite a fun toy."

"Get off of me." The demon laughed.

"Come on son, you remember what it was like to be possessed, you know that this part is most of the fun. Remember how much fun it was to shoot your brother. You remember that. The adrenalin all of it." Sam's face twisted in anger and he struggled to get the older man off of him, but the demon inside made Bobby stronger, and Sam didn't want to hurt Bobby. The damn demon knew that.

"I said get the fuck out of my friend's body." Dean said in a low angry voice. The demon laughed and looked to Dean with black eyes.

"And what exactly is the play thing going to do about it?" The demon pressed harder on the knife that was at Sam's throat. Applied just enough pressure to make him bleed. "You going to kill your friend, the man you revere as a father? Going to let him kill your precious little Sammy? Wasn't little Sammy here the one you called for day and night? I think he was."

"Shut up."

"Oh, come on Dean, what are you going to do?" Dean took a deep breath, closed his eyes and began reciting in Latin. Sam watched in amazement as the demon actually looked scared. Sam had no knowledge of the Latin that Dean was chanting, Dean had a hard time reciting Latin in general, but today he was reciting it as if it had been his first language.

"Where did you learn that?" the demon asked desperately as he tried to contain the screaming, tried to contain the pain. The kid shouldn't know that chant, shouldn't know how to kill a demon with Latin. They had made sure to destroy all evidence of this exorcism ritual. Demons had destroyed it during the dark ages, had killed every single man, woman, and child who had known about it, destroyed books and castles and homes, they had taken care of it. How did Dean know this one?

Dean continued the chant and the demon threw it's head up and screamed, however, black smoke didn't come from Bobby's mouth, the golden light of a dying demon echoed throughout Bobby's body, the final lighting blast and all went quiet, Bobby slumped over Sam's prone body and Sam let out a breath he didn't realize he was holding. What looked like black tar oozed from Bobby's mouth, and sizzled as it hit the wood of the porch.

He looked up at his brother and Dean opened his eyes and wavered a little on his feet. Sam made sure to note that Dean's eyes were still their normal human green, so he wasn't a demon, he wasn't other, where in the hell had he come up with that exorcism? Sam's attention was shifted when Bobby coughed. Bobby's eyes opened and he looked scared, more scared than Sam had ever seen him.

"Bobby?" he asked gently.

"Sam?" Bobby turned his head and saw a wobbly Dean standing above him, looking for all the world like he had just ran a marathon.

Dean reached out a shaking hand and Bobby took it without question. Once Bobby was standing Sam got shakily to his feet as well.

"Dean?" Sam asked slowly. He put a hand on his brother's shoulder, expected to him to flinch, expected him to start screaming and running back to his salt circle. But instead, Dean took a deep breath, stumbled back, Sam catching his arm and steadying him. Dean closed his eyes to get his balance again he opened them and looked to Sam.

"I'm here Sammy. I'm here."


	22. Weird

Bobby's heart was hammering. He had never been possessed before, had always taken the proper precautions, worn the right protection, known the right words to keep a demon away from his body. He couldn't remember what happened, couldn't remember much past the phone call he'd put into Sam, asking him where he was, he couldn't remember a damn thing after that. How had this happened?

Dean turned his bright green eyes to Bobby, he was panting a little, but he managed to ask the older hunter,

"You okay Bobby?"

"Doesn't matter."

"Yes it does matter, you are my family and no demon is ever going to touch my family again." He said with more conviction than he had ever had in his entire life. "Sam, you too, you okay?" Dean turned his eyes to his brother. Dean's eyes were so intense that for a moment Sam wondered if he could see inside him.

"Fine. Let's get you inside." Dean nodded and they all went inside as one unit, Bobby held onto Dean, Dean held onto Bobby, and Sam held onto Dean tighter than he ever had before, and Dean rested a shoulder against his baby brother. He turned to Sam, in tune with his feelings suddenly and whispered,

"I'm here Sammy, I'm really here." Once inside they put Dean in a chair and they sat around him.

"Bobby, are you sure you're okay?" Dean asked.

"I'm fine Son."

"That demon that was in you was a nasty son of a bitch. How did he get inside you? I mean you got the tatt when we did."

"I don't know. I really don't know." Dean sat up a little straighter and turned to face Bobby.

"Take off your shirt."

"Dean?"

"Just do it." Dean said forcefully. Sam smiled. That was Dean. That was the Dean that had been missing for over a year. Sam's heart warmed, he was so glad to have him back. He hoped he had him back for good and not just for another short period of time. The past year felt like the demons still had his brother in hell, were still torturing him, were still destroying all that is good in his brother. It had angered Sam, still angered him, he had fought, he had won, he had gotten his brother out of the pit, whole and alive, and those damn demons were still winning. He felt a light touch on his knee and noted that Dean, without turning from Bobby had rested the finger tips of three fingers on his knee. As soon as Sam realized it Dean's hand moved.

"Bobby I need to see the tattoo." Dean said again. Bobby finally took off his vest, his sweater, and his tee shirt and revealed the tattoo. Dean examined it and then looked up at Bobby. "You been in a fight lately?"

"Yeah, sort of."

"Catch you in the chest?" Realization dawned on the older hunter.

"Yes it did."

"Broke the line." Dean said with a sigh. "You'll need to get that fixed." Bobby put his clothes back on, Sam sat there frozen, and Dean leaned back against the chair trying to get a grip on his mind and the new information that was forcing its way into his brain. He could feel that Sam wanted to talk, knew it on more than one level. He was pretty sure that Sam was looking over his head to Bobby asking the silent question, 'what is going on?' and knew it was time to open his eyes.

"Ask it Sammy."

"Ask what?"

"The question, it is right there on the tip of your tongue. Just ask it."

"How did you know?" Sam licked his lips, fidgeted for a second and then tried again. "How did you know the demon possessed Bobby."

"I smelled him."

"But you said I smelled like demon."

"You kinda do, but not really, I smelled that demon. He'd been circling for a while now. I assume he heard your phone conversation with Bobby and got lucky."

"Are you okay now?"

"I think so. I mean, I don't feel like I'm still in the pit. I'm shaky, tired as hell, and hungry." Sam sailed. Broke out into a full on grin.

"Wanna burger? Extra onion? I'll go get you one." Sam's enthusiastic voice resonated through the abandoned home. He jumped up to grab the keys and go get his brother the greasiest hamburger he could find. He would gladly do that for his brother, gladly not feed him baby food anymore, just as he was about to move from his spot next to Dean he felt Dean tugging on his arm to sit back down. Confused, he did as encouraged.

"I don't know if I'm ready for that quite yet." Dean said with a reassuring smile. At Sam's sad expression Dean felt compelled to add. "I haven't eaten foods like that for close to a year, I need to work back up to it."

"Dean?" Bobby started. Dean turned to face the older man. "How did you know that exorcism?"

"It was the one they would use on bad demons. When they wanted to punish one they would kill them and that was the exorcism they would use. It was just a guess that it would work here."

"Damn good guess." Dean nodded. It had been a good guess, it had been scary as hell to watch demons do it to each other. They would lock one up in a dome of some sort, and everyone would leave, and one person, a person that had been taken whole and alive hundreds of years ago, and was now no more than skin and bone that could speak, would perform the exorcism. He was just thrilled it hadn't killed Bobby.

Later that night, he and Sam lie on the floor blankets covering them, sleep was something Dean knew he needed and was ready to partake in when he felt that Sam was going to speak, he knew what his brother was going to say. "I'm glad to be back too Sam. Now go to sleep."


	23. All Right

Bathing in the river was not nearly as much fun as Dean remembered it to be. The water was like ice, and honestly, he didn't feel like he had gotten as clean as he would have if he had had a shower. But, at least he was functioning well enough at the moment that he could decide that he really wasn't all that interested in taking a bath in the river. It had been a long year, he knew it had been hard on Sam, watching him, but Dean was glad that Sam hadn't been inside him, that was hell, that was scary, the darkness, the terror that surrounded him, that wouldn't let him get up, wouldn't let him swim to the surface. That dark still felt like it was just on his periphery. Felt like if he relinquished control for even a moment it would take over again, claiming victory again, and dragging Dean Winchester back into hell. So, he fought, he fought hard every second, he fought in his dreams the night before, and he most certainly fought now.

He collected his toiletries and headed back into the abandoned home. He slowly tiptoed past Sam with the thought of "sleep little brother you need it" and Sam turned over on his side and got more comfortable on his pillow. Dean watched him for a moment and his heart swelled with pride and sadness all at the same time. Dean was proud that Sam had stuck with him, had fought with Dean to get him out of the dark and back into the land of the living. He was proud that Sam had survived, because Dean most certainly hadn't when Sam had been killed. Sam had witnessed him shredded, blood gushing everywhere, all Dean had had to witness was a small knife being plunged into Sam's back. For the first time since Sam's death, Dean thought that he had gotten the better end of the visual stick, because Dean knew that if he had watched his little brother be shredded by hell hounds, he wouldn't have been able to get Sam out of the pit because he would have been locked up in a loony bin.

He walked into the room that used to be a functioning bathroom, closed the door behind him and took a look in the mirror for the first time since he had come out of the darkness.

"Holy crap Sam what did you do to my hair?" he asked the mirror as he picked at it with his hands. His hair was longer than he normally wore it, but it was short, but it was multiple lengths, and stuck up at odd angles. Dean rolled his eyes, looked for the scissors, sighed and started getting to work on his hair.

Sam woke up, looked to his left and realized that his brother was gone. Panic surged through him. "Oh God, Dean? Dean?" he started to yell.

"Quiet little brother, you don't want to wake Bobby, you know what it's like to be possessed." Sam ran towards the voice. Dean was upstairs in the bathroom. Sam had to clutch the doorframe when he saw his brother in the mirror. It was Dean, his Dean, Dean with the spiky hair, the stubbled jaw and bright green eyes. Dean felt the relief roll off of Sam in waves, felt him sigh, felt him think "thank God".

Dean turned to his little brother, whose hair was sticking up in tufts all about his head and whose face had almost two days worth of growth on his jaw.

"Dude, I think you need a turn in the river." Dean said with all seriousness, he felt Sam break, heard him burst out laughing. _Mission accomplished_. Dean thought. "What? You think smelling and looking like that is funny? No wonder you don't have a chick." He joked. Sam's eyes welled up with tears. Dean backed up hands raised in a defensive gesture. "Oh, no Sammy, don't turn on the water works…" Sam moved forward and clutched his brother in a bear hug. Dean willed his brother to let the crying out, to get it out of his system, because Dean knew for certain that he wouldn't be able to handle this ever again.

He wrapped his arms around his sobbing brother, rubbed a hand up and down his back. "It's okay Sammy, I'm here. I'm here. I'm not going to go anywhere ever again. Shhhhh, Sammy it's all right." Dean held his little brother as tight as he could against his chest and prayed that everything would continue to be all right.


	24. Shut Up Sam

"Okay, Sammy, Sammy." Dean said pulling his brother from his body. "Sammy, we can't stand like this all day, people will talk. We get enough of that already." A sob stuttered into a choked laugh and he felt his little brother nod and pull away from his shoulder.

"It's just—"

"I know Sammy, I really can't handle any more of a chick flick moment right now. You'll have to space these out or something, because twenty minutes with you crying on my shoulder pretty much taps out my tolerance for the month." Sam wiped the sloppy tears from his puppy dog eyes and just starred at his brother. He was really and truly back, the snarky comments, the hair, the posture, and the eyes. Sam had to force himself to be calm when he looked into his brother's eyes. Because inside the emerald orbs was his brother. Really and truly the soul that had been there before hell, before everything, it was there, but it was darker now, that he could see, but the darkness could be lifted and everything could be right back to the way it was. Couldn't it?

Sam took a deep breath and nodded. "No chick flick moments for a while."

"I'll let you have one a day, because I've been pretty checked out, and well, I guess" he sighed "that you've earned a couple of chick flick moments. Now move. I want out of this little room. Making me a little claustrophobic." Sam moved his large frame out of the way, suddenly a little nervous, Dean had never been claustrophobic before.

"I know what you are thinking Sam. It really is me. But you have to remember a lot of crap has happened to me, I have changed some." Sam's body went cold. Just how much had his brother changed? The realization that Sam really hadn't been with his brother since they got him out of the pit hit him like a slab of concrete falling from the sky and hitting him square on the head. He had been so hell bent on getting Dean out, and then getting Dean to a place where he wasn't rocking back and forth in a salt circle, that he never stopped to think about how different his brother would come back, he always assumed that Dean would come back Dean and they could go on hunting and protecting the lives of the innocent. Never once did it cross his mind that Dean might come back with new quirks and new fears and something different from his snarky, food loving, women chasing, evil exterminating, muscle car loving brother. Never once had that crossed his mind.

"Sam if you think any harder your head is going to explode." Dean said and pushed his way past his brother.

"I just never…"

"You expected me to just come out of hell and be the same guy." Dean said as they headed down the stairs.

"Well, yeah." Sam admitted.

"I am pretty much that guy Sam. Pretty much. But there is a darkness that threatens to swallow me up every second of the day." Dean spoke causally about the darkness because he was afraid if he admitted to any kind of fear that it would be just the chink in his armor that the dark would need to take him over again, and he would rather be dead than be that man, rocking and screaming, again. He had a job to do. That job was more important than ever. He had to protect Sammy. Something told Dean that now that the demons knew that he was back in action that they would be taking some major swings at both Winchesters, partly out of pride and partly because of what he had learned in Hell. They reached the cooler where Sam was keeping food stuffs; Dean opened it and looked inside. "We have something other than baby food to eat? I mean what were you eating?"

"Not much."

"I can tell that, you've lost muscle tone. We need to get back out there training before we go after any more hell spawn. I can't have either one of us less than perfect shape."

"Dean…"

"I'm fine Sam." Sam's teeth set on edge. Less than a day back from the abyss of panic and he is putting the "I'm fine Sam" stop on conversation.

"What happened to you in hell?" Dean licked his lips, looked at his brother and looked down.

"I don't want to talk about it."

"Dean…"

"I said I didn't want to talk about it. Leave it alone Sam."

"Dean…"

"Shut up!" Dean yelled startling Sam. "I can't talk about it. Not now. Too soon. Just can't." Dean said and looked away from his brother. Sam felt the tears stinging the back of his eyes. The bottle in his bag was yelling his name. When Dean went to the bathroom. He would fortify himself. This was getting to be too much.


	25. Not Now

Dean's voice had woken Bobby up, partly because he had yelled at his brother to shut up and partly because Bobby had been worried about the kid. For the last year Sam had kept a very low profile. If Bobby called, Sam would answer, but not stay on the line long enough for his phone to be traced. Bobby was pretty damn certain that Sam had changed cell phones every couple of weeks to make sure that he couldn't find the boys. He hadn't understood why, and he still wasn't real sure he did now. The house was definitely demon proof. Bobby had never seen so many devil's traps in his life. Sam had mentioned briefly, before Bobby went to bed, that Dean had had a day where he went crazy, or crazier than usual, and put devil's traps everywhere. Bobby even noted that there were salt lines everywhere. Even in places that didn't have any kind of threshold, they were just in the middle of the room. Sam had nodded and just said "Dean". So Dean's raised voice roused him from his sleep.

While he was getting dressed he heard the rusty old screen door snap shut, and he wondered if the brothers were mad at each other enough to actually leave. That made him dress faster. He got down stairs and found Sam, head tipped back, and a bottle of Jack plugged into his face. Bobby was quiet and watched as Sam drained half of the bottle before he wiped his mouth, capping it, and putting it back into his bag. And he'd be damned if the boy didn't immediately pop a few breath mints and then pretend like he hadn't done anything out of the ordinary for Sam.

"Where's Dean?" he asked as he put his feet on the first floor.

"He had to use the facilities." He said and ran a hand through his hair.

"You okay son?" Bobby asked tentatively.

"Fine. Fine." He said too quickly and without much conviction.

"Try something else. Because that was a lie."

"I'm fine really Bobby."

"I heard Dean yelling down here."

"Didn't mean to wake you."

"Damnit Sam. What is going on? You shut me out for a year, I've been possessed by one hell of a demon, just coming near this place. What is going on?"

"I don't' think Sam has the answer to that." Dean said from the door way. Both men turned to the door. A sizzle of fear ran through Bobby's old bones. Neither he nor Sam had heard him come in. Had they been that wrapped up in their conversation? "Sammy probably won't even be able to think clearly until that whisky starts running through his veins. Isn't that right Sammy?" Sam paled.

"What are you talking about?"

"That half bottle of whisky that you downed while I was outside."

"Were you spying on me?" Sam asked defensively.

"No. Just an educated guess." Sam eyed him suspiciously. Dean walked to the bag that Sam had next to him.

"No, Dean, no." he said as he tried to swat his brother away. Dean pushed him once really hard and Sam landed on his ass.

"Little brother, you can not be drinking while we are on the hunt." He said and dug out the bottle. "What? Liquid courage? I get it. I get that it was hard watching me rock and scream. I get that. But you know what? I've been to hell. I've been through tortures that you can't even imagine and I did it all FOR YOU." Dean tried to control his breathing, he tried to control his anger, he couldn't let himself be vulnerable. He took a deep breath and loomed over his little brother, eyes firm and fixed on Sam's. Sam started to flinch away and Dean grabbed his chin and forced him to look into his eyes. "And you are not going to be wasting any of the life that I suffered for in the bottom of a bottle. I most certainly am not going to go on a hunt with you while this shit is in your system. You are a danger to you and me. Now get up." He threw Sam's chin out of his hand and moved back and allowed the younger man to get his feet. Dean thrust the bottle in his hands. "Go, get rid of it." When Sam didn't move Dean got an inch from his face and yelled, "NOW." Startled, Sam went out back and dumped the bottle of liquid courage.

"Dean..how?"

"Not now Bobby, not now." Dean said with a sigh.


	26. Uneasy Truce

Sam wouldn't make eye contact with his brother the rest of the day. And just as dusk was taking over the horizon Bobby decided, not being able to take the tension in the room any longer, that he should go to the grocery and buy foods that people who had already cut their teeth could actually eat.

Being alone with Dean right now wasn't something Sam wanted. The chastising he had received earlier stung, and the only things that went through his head were 'I took care of you while you were rocking on the floor, I was the one to force feed you. I protected you. Why can't you be more grateful?"

"Sucks doesn't it?" Dean asked as he picked up over the area in which they were sleeping.

"What?"

"Doing everything for someone and never getting even so much as a thank you."

"What? How?"

"I told you Sammy I came back different." He said by way of an explanation. He shook out the blanket that was on the floor acting indifferent to his words, but it bothered him more than he would ever let Sam know. The dark pushed hard against his mind and Dean fought and kept it at bay, wrapped it in chains and tried to close the door on it. He knew that the door wouldn't be able to hold it, but he could certainly hope that this door could hold it for at least the rest of the conversation with Sammy.

"That's not a reason."

"It is a reason."

"No. It. Is. Not."

"You think you're all big and bad?" Dean asked in a condescending tone. "You can't even stand up to someone without a chug of your courage. You feeling jittery yet?"

"Shut up Dean."

"I will not shut up Sam. You have no business…"

"I was scared! Okay!" Sam said loudly walking up to his brother trying to use his height to intimidate, it didn't work, Dean gave him a smug look and that fueled Sam's anger. "You're sitting there rocking on the floor and scared out of your mind. How would you react to that? Huh? I've seen you get drunk."

"As I recall, my brother told me that he had visions, my father told me that I might have to kill said brother if I couldn't save him. I most certainly didn't get plastered every night, even when I wanted to. There is absolutely no excuse for your behavior Sam. You are smarter than that! I taught you better than that!"

"You can't be my brother." Sam said seething. That took Dean aback. It took him a second to get his emotional footing. His eyes blazed, not with demonic presence, but with Dean. With Dean's anger, with Dean's hurt, with Dean's pain. And before Sam knew what happened, Dean punched him square in the jaw.

"How dare you?!" Dean asked before he hit him in the stomach. Sam doubled over with the hit. Dean's voice was cold and hard as he crouched down to look at Sam's face. "Come on, aren't you man enough, hunter enough to hit me?" Sam looked up from his doubled position, anger blazed in his hazel eyes and he charged his brother. The fight of the century ensued. It was a mix of verbal, physical, and emotional blows. It was a fight that only two men, who had lived together, been raised together, trained together, and knew each other better than even themselves could wage. They knew which words would hurt the worst just like they knew which punches would sting and which ones would be deflected.

Dean ended up on top of Sam. He had one hand wrapped around his throat, only applying mild pressure, and he used his whole weight to pin the rest of his brother down, one arm under each knee.

"Go ahead, say it."

"Christo." Sam said after a second. There was no flinch. There was no black consuming green, just the same Dean, the same heavy breathing, bleeding Dean. Sam's face went slack.

"Yeah, little brother, it's me. Completely me. I just won't handle you doing that to yourself. If you are going to act like I child, I'll treat you like one. We don't have time to coddle anymore. They are coming and they are coming with a force that you will never understand. And I pray to God that you never will. They are all coming for you. And now that I'm back in the game, they want to drag my ass back to hell, but I'm not going to go Sammy. I need to protect myself, and protect you, but I need your help this time through. I can't have you addicted to anything but the hunt." Dean said finally rolling onto his back beside his brother.

"Damn, you have a nasty right hook." He said and checked to see how much blood was on his mouth, Sam gave a light chuckle.

"And don't you forget it." Sam said. Sam swallowed hard. He turned his head and looked at his brother. "Training is a necessary thing isn't it?"

Dean nodded. "I think so." He laughed. "I haven't been this exhausted after a fight in a long time."

"Me either." An unspoken truce was issued.


	27. New Tricks

When Bobby arrived back at the house he found both brothers on the floor, each had bruises forming on their faces as well as blood seeping from various cuts and scrapes. They weren't speaking, but they were lying closer to each other than they had the night before when Bobby had come down to check on the both of them. He did notice, however, that both postures were more relaxed. The two had come to blows, and by doing that they had in essence reaffirmed the bond they had had since childhood.

"You idjits going to lie there and stare at the ceiling while I have haul in all of these bags? Get your asses up and help."

"Yes sir," was issued in unison, and something extraordinary happened. Sam was the first on his feet, and he offered Dean a hand, and instead of Dean saying "I got it", he gave his hand to his brother, and allowed Sam to pull him to his feet. Dean looked his little brother in the eye and both brothers gave an almost imperceptible nod. Dean headed out to the truck to get more bags, Bobby put a hand on Sam's chest, stopping him from following his brother.

"What happened?"

"He's Dean." Sam said simply. "He just cares about himself now. It's weird that it took going to hell to get him to realize that he is just as important as I am." Sam said.

"He hit you pretty good boy."

"I hit him pretty good too. You once said that the storm was coming, well it is. And my brother and I need to be ready for it. We can't stop at a few punches to the face." The door opened and both turned and saw Dean trying to balance three bags as he entered.

"What, Sam, do I look like your bitch? I didn't think so, get out there and get some of these groceries. Move." Dean finished and Sam did as directed. Bobby looked at Dean with a mix of wonder and incredulity. "What?" he asked as he looked into one of the bags. "OHHHH Twinkies!" he said as he tore into the box and shoved one in his mouth before Bobby could get a word out. Bobby shook his head at how some things simply stayed the same.

They kept the same room assignments as they had the night before. Dean was simply more comfortable on the first floor of the house. Dean slept well until he felt Sam. He woke, realized it was still dark outside, turned to his little brother who showed no sign of sleep disturbance, but in his gut Dean knew he was gearing up for a nightmare. Then he felt the dream, couldn't see it exactly, but he could feel the emotions behind it. It was starting to turn dark. The worry and panic of the last year were trying to work themselves out in his dreams. Just as the dream was beginning to morph into a nightmare he smacked Sam on the chest and Sam started awake.

"Come on. Let's get a move on. Let's start training." Sam blinked several times to get his barring and finally turned to his brother.

"What time is it?"

"Early. Come on. Get dressed. Let's get a move on." Dean was up and moving to his duffel before Sam was even completely coherent. Sam watched his brother move and noticed that his movements were more sure than they had been before his trip to hell. Dean mentioned that he came back different, and it was obvious even in his movements. He had to understand. He had to know. The only problem was getting through his brother's all too familiar defenses.

"Come on Sammy, quit starring at me and get a move on. We need to get this training under way, there is a lot of crap out the there with our names on it just waiting for one of us to be flabby and out of shape to beat the crap out of us and kill us. I don't know about you but I've been there, done that, got the tee shirt and would really like to return it, but that would require me to go back there and well…" he finished with a cock and shake of the head and went back to his duffel.

"Breakfast at least first?" Sam questioned.

"No, no breakfast." Sam groaned and threw the covers off of him and stood, before he knew what was happening Dean landed a punch directly to his abdomen. He doubled over and coughed, the air had rushed out of him with that punch.

"What the hell dude?" Sam wheezed.

"Demons aren't going to wait for you to wake up." Dean said darkly and went back to his duffel bag. Anger and humiliation surged through Sam. He charged after Dean and he managed to get another punch into his stomach. He wrenched Sam's hand behind his back at an angle that forced the bigger man to come down to Dean's size. He whispered in Sam's ear. "Stealth Sam. Remember stealth. Or have you forgotten that lesson?" he asked and then threw his little brother away from him. Sam fell to the floor and slid on his side a little further away.

"Dean." he started. "What the hell?"

"Hell has nothing to do with it Sammy. Things simply have to change. We have to be different, we have to change, remember like that one episode of Star Trek…"

"Wait, you watch Star Trek? Or was that some form of torture technique they used on you down there?"

"Shut up." Dean said exasperatedly as he pulled on a pair of jeans. "But seriously, this race of things, they looked like someone glued car parts onto them." He shook his head. "Anyway, they could adapt to the little…" he made a motion like a hand held gun.

"Phazer, Dean."

"What, were you tortured with it too when you died?" Dean asked, and Sam noted that for the first time since that fateful day in Cold Oak, Dean didn't flinch at mentioning Sam's demise. "But the bad people, the ones with the car parts glued to their faces, adapted so the good guys had to change, constantly to be able to preserve their culture. Just think of it that way. We are doing the same thing. And for that we've got to change."

"But what about all of that crap about 'remember what Dad taught you, remember what I taught you?" Sam asked as he got to his feet.

"Oh that's true. Dad taught us stealth. You didn't use it. I taught you never to be vulnerable, and you were and I nailed you when you were vulnerable. The old lessons hold true, but we both have to learn new ones. And we start that today. We've got work to do Sam, and we've said that phrase a lot in our lives, but this time we aren't saying it out of vengeance or loyalty to one another, we are saying it because we need to save lives, we need to save our way of live, our very existence as human beings." Sam stood a little straighter. He nodded and moved closer to his brother to get things out of his own duffel. This time he heard when Dean moved and started for him, and he deflected it and elbowed Dean in the stomach.

"I'm not too old to learn new tricks, remember that." Sam said with a smirk.


	28. Days, Months, Years

It had been a week since their knock down drag out, and they had spent the better part of that week outside practicing basic moves their father had taught them long long ago, and today was no different. They were practicing moves that they never really thought they would have to perfect again. But with both of their muscle depletion after almost a year of no rough and tumble demon/ghost hunting they had to start at the bottom and work their way up.

"Come on Dean harder!" Sam yelled as Dean made a solid kick to Sam's front, which was shielded by an old couch cushion they had found around the house and were using as padding for their little training session. "Dean, come on, I'm a smart assed demon that wants to drag your ass back to hell. Are you really going to just kick me like that?" Sam questioned. He was trying to use emotional tactics as well as physical, they both were, because demons wouldn't walk up to them and say, "Well hello. It is a pleasure to see the both of you again. We were thinking of attacking this afternoon in a well padded room, could you please show up at 9?" They were going to taunt and say things that indeed would cut to the quick. They had to both be ready for the insults and the jibes and the falsehoods that sounded suspiciously like the truth.

"Are you going to let some smart assed demon drag me back to hell?" he asked and gave Sam such a solid kick that it made him fall back some.

"Nice Dean." he said and readjusted the pad on his hip and the two moved back and forth across the lawn, Sam eventually starting to run fast, throwing the pad to the grass, giving his out of shape brother a run for his money. To his credit, when he weaved, Dean weaved with him and Dean, despite the three inches Sam had on his legs, caught his brother and tackled him to the ground and pinned his arms above his head. He began reciting the Latin chant that had killed the demon inside Bobby. When finished he let Sam go and rolled off of the bigger man.

"You have to teach me that chant."

"Yeah, I know."

"Dean,"

"What Sammy?" he asked as he caught his breath.

"There is something you aren't telling me."

"There are lots of things I'm not telling you Sam, don't ask because I'm not going to say anything until I'm ready. Now get up, it's your turn."

"Dean."

"I said I'm not going to talk about it until I'm ready. Don't push Sam. Put the eyes away it isn't going to work. I am simply not ready. I didn't ask you about Jessica's death. So don't you ask me about hell."

"But that's different."

"Damn right it is different."

"Dean."

"Sam." The brothers locked eyes. "I'm not sharing right now. I will when I'm ready. Now get your ass up. We need to work." Sam let out a frustrated sigh and stood up. He got into a ready stance as Dean got the padding back. Sam started to kick and they were good kicks. They were sharp and pointed and he nailed every single one. Dean wasn't worried about his brother's physical prowess. He was more concerned with his mental. Sam hadn't dealt with anything, he had allowed the alcohol to hide it. Demons were going to use that to their advantage.

"You sure it's me Sam?" he asked as Sam kicked. Sam hesitated for a fraction of a second, and Dean moved just enough that Sam would miss enough to throw him off balance, to his credit Sam caught himself, but not before Dean could take a shot at Sam's back, and he made sure to hit him exactly where the knife had been plunged into his spinal cord by the bastard Jake. He did it because he knew it still hurt from time to time. Demons knew it too. Sam turned and glared.

"You sure, Sammy. You sure you didn't bring back some hell spawn that just looks like Dean?" Sam's eyes blazed and he came charging. "Oh come on Sammy."

"It. Is. Sam."

"Your name don't mean shit boy. You are a Winchester. That's all that matters. But are you absolutely positive that I am the real Dean?" Sam came after him again, this time throwing his whole body at his brother. Dean moved out of the way and Sam stumbled, and Dean landed a tap to the base of his brother's neck. Sam turned, anger had been replaced with fury. He ran towards Dean and he dropped the pad and moved a little to the right and kicked his brother's feet out from underneath him. "Come on you pansy. You can move better than that. Down in hell you're a legend. Big, tall, strong, smart Sammy Winchester, can kick demon ass, he is the chosen one, he can lead us to our destiny." Dean had purposefully used the 'us' pronoun to see if it angered or scared Sam. The feeling he got at the base of his spine was immediate. Sam was beyond furious and now that fury was laced with a little doubt, a little fear.

"I am no demon leader!" he yelled and shifted and used his legs to kick his brother down to the ground, and then he got on top of his brother, pinned his arms and legs down and chanted the exorcism.

"Very good Sammy." Dean said. "Just remember to keep that massive head up. Use that height Sammy. Most of the bodies that they are going to inhabit are going to be my size or smaller. Make sure that you keep your head up." Sam wasn't letting go of his brother. Wasn't getting up. Dean gave him confused eyes. "What are you doing?"

"Are you really my brother?" he asked quietly.

"Yes, Sam, I am really Dean Winchester."

"You aren't acting like him." Dean tried to control a smile. Sam was regurgitating the things he had said. He had hit Sam's fears right on the head. These are the buttons the demons were going to push and Sam had to be ready.

"Sam. It was all an act. I am Dean. I'm the one who put Nair in your shampoo, I'm the one who taught you to walk, talk unfortunately, I'm the one who watched you leave for Stanford and didn't ask you to stay no matter how much I wanted you to. It is really me." Sam looked and felt like he believed him and rolled off of his brother. "Sam. The demons are going to say things that will disturb the both of us. They are going to use my time in hell against me and they are going to use me against you. We both have to be prepared. We both have to grow a thicker emotional skin."

"Whatever." Sam said.

"Whatever my ass Sam. You need to learn what to do with those emotions other than drown them in a bottle of whisky."

"Well what works for me doesn't work for the rest of my family because we have a firm "no talking about anything rule" in the Winchester family. So, I don't know, Dean, maybe I should just go drown them so I don't disturb anyone else with my chatter." He got up and stormed back into the house.

Dean took a deep shaking breath and realized that change had occurred in both of them, and that they both needed to change a little more in order for them to survive upcoming days, months, and years.


	29. Cold Oak

Dean sat back on the grass for a moment until he felt his brother doing something that he really shouldn't do.

"Awww hell no." he said and pushed himself up off of the grass, pulled the gun out of the waist band of his jeans and determinedly pulled open the door.

"Now, son, you shouldn't be doing that." Bobby said as Sam twisted the cap off of the bottle of whisky.

"No, son you shouldn't." Dean said and shot the bottle in Sam's hands. It shattered sending the amber liquid everywhere. Dean put the gun back into his pants and strode fast to Sam.

"What the hell Dean?" Sam yelled.

"Where in the hell do you keep coming up with that shit?" Dean asked heatedly smacking the hand that still held the neck of the bottle.

"What do you care? We don't' talk about things. Can't risk a 'chick flick moment.'" Dean started to open his mouth and Sam interrupted. "Oh, that's right, because you went to hell for me, and you don't want me to waste your sacrifice. Well get a clue, your sacrifice wasn't asked for, and it wasn't wanted. You left me, voluntarily, you left me for hell, wouldn't let me do anything to stop it, and then I fight, hurt myself, do all sorts of things that I never thought I would do to get you back, and I get your body and not your soul, I don't get my brother back, and when I do all you can do is lecture me on the finer points of drinking. Oh, no you don't."

"Damn right I left you voluntarily. I couldn't see you die because I tried to get out of something I willingly put myself into."

"How selfish…"

"We've already had this conversation." Dean said with a sigh.

"No, you had this conversation, you never really heard me."

"I heard you loud and clear."

"What, is it that you just don't care?"

"Sam…that's not it."

"Then what is it Dean? Did you get off on going to hell or something? Finally solidify your martyr status?" Dean's face went blank and cold.

"Shut up Sam."

"No. I won't shut up. I'm not just a little brother. I'm not something to just be protected. I'm an adult—"

"You aren't acting like one."

"You son of a bitch." Sam said as he punched his brother in the jaw pitching his face and a little blood to the left.

"Boys!" Bobby yelled. Sam ignoring the elder hunter, stepped closer to his brother who was checking the blood on his bottom lip.

"You thinking hitting me makes you a man? It doesn't Sam. But it is a step in the right direction." Dean's eyes bored holes into his brother's skull. "I can't treat you like an equal right now. You are the target. Whatever the Yellow Eyed Demon did to you, made you a target. I feel it."

"What the hell do you mean 'feel it' Dean?"

"Never mind."

"Oh hell no! You are not shutting me down like that. What do you mean?"

"It's not important."

"It is very important. You've been different around me. Like you know my moves when I know them. You can sense something. What in the hell are you talking about?" Dean licked his lips, wiped blood off of them and starred hard at his brother.

"I sense demons." He said finally.

"But I'm not a demon."

"That's what I always thought Sammy."

"Wait. You think I'm a demon?" Dean shrugged. "You better answer me Dean or I will kick your ass." Sam seethed.

"I think there is more to the whole Cold Oak thing then you are telling me. I think you learned a lot more than you told me." Sam went cold. 'There is then. You just went all cold on me."

"Demon blood. The Yellow Eyed Demon fed me demon blood when I was a baby."

Dean took a deep breath and sat down on the edge of a table. He ran a hand through his hair and let out a deep breath. "And you never thought that this would be something I would need to know?"

"Well, you sold your soul, there just seemed like there were more important-"

"More important than you having demon blood coursing through your veins? I don't think so Sammy. You should have told me." he yelled.

"Boys." Bobby said again trying to dispel some of the tension in the room.

"No, Bobby, this we need to handle ourselves." Dean said darkly. "So you kept all of this to yourself, never thought that I would need to know that." Sam hesitated. Dean could feel that there was something right under the surface. Something that Sam needed to say. "Sam." He said in the tone that said that he better start opening his mouth right now before he came over there and socked him in the stomach.

"I was scared."

"Scared of what?" Dean demanded. He knew what Sam was going to say before he said it. "Me?" Dean shook his head. "Oh, do not put this on me. You tell me you have the shining, that you can move things with your mind, Dad tells me there is something out there that will change you and make you something I'll have to kill, you are possessed by a demon, I find out that you are wanted to lead a demon army, and you think telling me that you a have a little demon blood in your body will make me pack it in and go, 'op that's too far. Don't want to deal with that?!' You have got to be kidding me Sam. Do you have that low of an opinion of me? Good God! You telling me that at least would have let me know what was going on. Would have at least given me a clue as to where in the hell to go. Geeze Sam! Come on!" He threw his hands up in complete and utter disbelief.

"Dean I didn't mean."

"Don't do that Sam. I don't want to hear what you meant! I want you to freaking quit keeping things from me. I told you everything. I risked everything with the truth. I just wish that you could have afforded me the same courtesy."

"I'm sorry."

"I don't want that either. I just…I just want out of here for a few minutes. I'm going to go wash up in the river." He said and grabbed the towel he had left on the back of the chair this morning and left their little home.

Sam sighed and slid down into a chair, clutching his hair in one hand and rubbing his eyes with the other hand. He heard Bobby pull up a chair next to him.

"I don't want to hear it Bobby."

"But you need to boy."

"Please, please not now."

"Let's just say that I'm glad you didn't give into the powers like Ruby wanted you to. I think we would be in a much different situation if you had done that. And I think I would really miss having you around." Bobby said and stood. "I'm going to go out and get something hot for us to eat. Be back." He said, grabbed his keys off of the table and left. Sam put his head down on the table and sighed.


	30. Sorry

Dean went to the river, stripped off his shirt, took a wash cloth, dipped it in the chilled water and began to wash the sweat and blood off of his chest and arms. When he fought the darkness and won, he thought that he was the only one who was going to need time to heal, to make things better, before they went back to killing demons. Of course his body had lost muscle tone, but Sam, he expected Sam to be training him again, getting him ready for the fight, never once had he thought that Sam hadn't been hunting or that he hadn't been working out to keep his muscle mass. Essentially Sam died when he died. Just like he had in Cold Oak.

Dean wiped down his chest, marveled at how one little year of disuse could make his body look so different and how achy he could be after a simple sparring match with his brother. Throwing his shirt on, and collecting his towel he headed back to the house. The closer he came to Sam the more he could feel his brother. He was sad. He was tired. He was confused. And he was most definitely angry. Dean had some apologizing to do.

"Sam?" he called upon entering the house. Sam lifted his head from the table and focused on Dean. He pulled the chair up to Sam and looked at him.

"I'm sorry."

"Christo."

"Come on dude that's not funny."

Sam chuckled and rested his head on his hands. "It was a little funny." Dean rolled his eyes at the role reversal. "What are you sorry for?" Sam asked not sure if he knew the answer. Knowing his brother he could be apologizing for something that happened years ago and not the fight they just had.

"I didn't consider you in any of this. No, I did, but not in the right way." He leaned back in his chair, took a deep breath, and continued. "I sold my soul because I couldn't live without you by my side. I just couldn't. I felt like I failed you. Felt like I had screwed up your life and everything. I justified getting into my car, making that deal by saying that with me out of the way then you could move on, maybe get that law degree become someone in the light, who had a name, who lived in one town, could have a girl that wasn't a werewolf." They both gave a small chuckle at the last. "But I just knew that you would be okay without me. I'm the needy one. I didn't think that you were. Honestly, I still think that what happened to Jessica is my fault." Sam started to protest. Dean raised a hand to stop him. "Look, I'm going to make this apology once, so let me get through it." Sam held in a smile and nodded. "If I hadn't come and disrupted your life, well, then you might still have her. Might be married with a baby on the way. You deserve that Sam." Dean stopped and Sam began to wonder if he was done. Just as he was about to say something Dean looked up from his hands, tears in his eyes and continued.

"I never thought you really needed me. You left for school and never called again. I just figured it would be like that, you know. Never thought that you had become as attached to me as I was to you. So I just figured, well, you're stronger than me, you can make it without me. It's no big deal. I get now that it was a big deal. So I'm sorry, that I didn't realize that before, I'm not sorry that I sold my soul for you. You are the most important thing in my life, always have been and always will be. Thank you for getting me out of hell." Sam was shocked at the end.

"I couldn't leave you there."

"We left Dad there."

"We didn't know the things we do now."

"Maybe, we just weren't as determined." Sam stopped, thought, and realized that Dean was right.

"Yeah, maybe."

"Also, thanks for not bailing on me while I rocked in my corner." Dean's eyes couldn't meet Sam's. "Can we call this moment over now?" he asked almost pained. "I think I've done more chick flicking in this conversation than I have in my entire life. I can't take much more Sam." Sam burst out laughing. That was the Dean Winchester he knew.

"Yeah, I've had my fill." Sam said with mirth.

"Good. I'm starving. Bobby back with the chow?"

"Does he look like he's here?"

"Good point." Dean said and stood up, looked up and around. "You still have all of the money Bella gave us?"

"Yeah." Sam said confused.

"Maybe we should think about buying this place." Sam sat back stunned. Dean wanted roots.


	31. Ashamed

Dean didn't say much more that night. It seemed as if that chick flick moment had taken more out of him than he was willing to admit. Bobby got back with food and Dean ate as much as he could, which was astonishingly little. His stomach just couldn't hold as much as it used to. Sam wondered just how much of that had to do with stomach shrinkage and how much had to do with what the demons did to him. That was when the need started to grow, like a vine, in his stomach, and working its way up to his brain.

By the time Dean and Bobby were ready for bed, the vine had worked its way into every corner of his rational mind. The vine worked his mouth like a puppet, suggesting to the other hunters that they go out and celebrate the idea of buying a home, the fact that Dean had apologized, Dean had frowned on that particular comment, and both of the elder hunters declined. The vine wound tighter and Sam felt like he was going to loose air if he didn't feed the vine's need. Dean and Bobby both claimed to be too tired to go anywhere and Dean reminded Sam that they needed to be up early in the morning to train and build back some of that muscle they had lost over the year. Sighing, Sam pretended to agree with the elder hunters, even laid down on his make shift bed.

But when he heard his brother's breathing even out into slumber, he got up, the vine convincing him that he would be a good idea to go out to get something to drink, because, his obstructed logic said that it would be okay, because it had been a good day, because he felt like he finally had his life back, his brother back. The vine digging further and deeper into his brain forced him to rationalize taking Bobby's keys off of the table by saying that he didn't want to disturb Dean, he needed the sleep and the sound of his baby's engine revving to life would awaken him. The forty-five minute drive into the city didn't even cross faze him, nor did walking into the all night liquor store that was in the center of the city, nor did it seem wrong or odd when he entered and the man at the counter said "Howdy Sam! Been a while." All that mattered was taking care of the vine, giving it what it needed to go away, leave him alone just for a little bit.

He took his first drink when he got in the car. He took his second while he drove. He had finished the bottle by the time he parked the car in front of the little house that they would soon look into owning. The reason for the celebration. He stumbled up the path leading to the house, and opened the door, found Bobby sitting on the floor with Dean. Dean looked to have been crying.

"What happened?" Sam slurred. Dean's wide eyes went to his brother. Tears flowed and he looked to be getting a hold of himself as if he had been through something traumatic in the time that Sam had been away.

"Thank God." He mumbled and slowly gathered himself to his feet. With equal slowness he made his way to Sam, checked him over and then hugged him. "I thought—I thought—" he choked and looked to Bobby.

"He thought the demons got you."

"What?" Sam asked and swayed just a little on his feet.

"You dumb assed son of a bitch, you left. To get drunk." Bobby exclaimed.

"No, to celebrate. Want some?" he asked holding out a bottle that was three quarters empty.

"No, I don't freaking want any!" Bobby said exasperated.

"I needed you here Sam." Dean said quietly, hoarsely.

"What?"

"I'm not going to talk to you while you are drunk. I need you to remember, I need you to be there, I don't need you checked out and shit faced." Dean said and sat down at the table in the kitchen, he held his hands tightly trying to get them to stop shaking. The dream had been horrific, he woke up looking for Sam, looking to make sure it was all just a bad dream, or even just memories, but Sam hadn't been there. Sam hadn't heard his screams. Bobby heard them, Bobby was the one who came running, who grabbed his shirt and kept him from running into his salt circle corner, he was the one who held him while he screamed and fought to keep darkness away. He looked over at Sam, swaying on his feet, eyes vacant and wide, bottle in one hand and Bobby's keys in the other. He had never been so ashamed of his brother.


	32. Reality

Sam awoke to ice cold water being thrown onto his face, dripping down his shirt, and soaking his hair. He woke, bleary eyed, and wiped the water from his face.

"What the hell?" he managed and he was finally able to see Dean, wide awake, looking none too happy, and holding another bucket of water.

"I'm not possessed." Sam said louder than his head could take.

"I know that. The water is to get you sober." He said and threw the second pail full of water onto his brother.

"Stop it!!" Dean threw the bucket on the floor and the sound of metal connecting with wood echoed throughout the house. Sam covered his ears and then his head. "You are being mean." Sam said softly.

"And you're being an idiot." He said. Sam looked around, his brother was pissed.

"Where's Bobby?"

"Checking out the price of the house for me. Now, get up, we have work to do."

"I don't feel good right now."

"You think I care? You must be mistaking me for someone else. Because I don't. Now get your ass up, we have work to do." Sam, knew the tone of voice his brother was using, he had been on the end of it a few times, and those were the times he didn't care to repeat. Dean angry was never a good thing. He got up, dressed, brushed his teeth and combed his hair and found his brother standing at the foot of the stairs waiting for him.

"Come on." Was all Dean said as they headed out to the yard in which they had been practicing for combat. "Get your shirt off, no use in getting blood all over it." Dean said as he took his off as well, the scars from the encounter with the hellhounds still pink against his pale skin. He had saved his brother's soul but he hadn't been able to save the body from the reminder that his soul had been taken viciously. Sam swallowed, and tried to blink away the tears, blink away the reminders of that day. He wanted a drink. He wanted a drink now. He wanted to go far away from this place, far away from the scars on his brother's chest, far away from the memories plaguing his mind.

"Suck it up." Dean said and advanced on him without any warning and landed a punch straight to Sam's gut. Sam was ill prepared for the hit, and the force of the hit, and toppled to the ground. "Bang!" Dean said. "You're dead. Killed by a demon, because you were too slow."

"But it wasn't fair."

"It's not fair that Dad died for me." He said and allowed his brother to get up only to hit him square in the jaw and fall straight on his ass again. "Bang. That demon got you again."

"Dean.." Sam started.

"What? Isn't this fair little brother? No it's not fair. It's not fair that the Yellow Eyed Demon killed Mom." He said and Sam tried to stand up and Dean put a hand on his head and pushed him right back onto his ass. "It's not fair that the demon killed Jessica." Sam fought a little harder to stand up, but was hindered when his feet were suddenly not underneath him any more, because Dean's foot as swiped them out from underneath. "It's not fair that the demon fed you his blood to encourage you along the path to demonhood." At the mention of his destiny Sam managed to catch his breath and jump up. Dean knocked him on his ass with a well placed punch. Dean lowered himself into his brother's face. "It's not fair that last night I had the worst nightmare I've ever had, and I needed my brother to be by my side and he was off getting loaded, because he can't handle reality anymore."


	33. I Can Handle Reality

"I can't handle reality!?" Sam yelled and jumped up before Dean could knock him down again. His chest heaved with anger, his eyes blazed, clear, focused and angry. He moved forward on his brother. "I'm the one all of that crap was about. How do you think I felt when you told me that Dad wanted you to kill me? Huh? But we never had the conversation, God forbid, we go into unmarked chick flick territory. Or, let's see, the whole thing with the visions, it was ME, it was my head that hurt, it was my body they tortured, and made me feel like a freak."

He was seething and standing right up almost on top of Dean, and Dean didn't even flinch, didn't take a step backwards, just stood and looked his brother dead in the eyes. "Then, then, my brother sells his soul for me. Sells it! Freaking only gives me a year to get used to the idea and to find a way to stop it, and then he won't even freaking let me get him out. Why you may ask?! Because, it will kill me. Of course! Let's see, Dad dies, we don't talk about it, my visions are a part of something really big, we don't talk about it, you sell yourself for me, we most certainly don't talk about that, instead we yell about that one, and then you die, I'm left alone, and there is no one around to talk about that with, then I finally get you back, finally, and then you can't talk about it because you are sitting in a salt circle rocking back and forth screaming every couple of minutes, and now that I have you back, you condemn me! What the hell!? I missed one little nightmare and you act like I've missed everything. I've tried to be there for you Dean. I've tried. I've tried to do anything and everything for you and you have the audacity to beat the shit out of me and then tell me that I can't handle reality. I'm sorry, if I've found an unsavory way of coping, but I've found a way to cope because no one in my life will talk to me about anything!! I need to talk." He said finally.

"You done?" Dean said calmly. "Or do I need to deck you again?"

"That is your answer for everything isn't it? Sammy isn't being obedient. Put him on the ground. Make him bleed, sure that's acceptable. It isn't. I'm tired of it Dean."

"Maybe you shouldn't have brought me back from the pit." Dean said softly. Sam staggered back as if struck.

"What the fuck?!" he demanded.

"If I'm this much of a problem for you, maybe you should have left me there."

"Left you to suffer?" Sam's eyes watered. "No. No." He shook his head and moved back farther.

"But you wouldn't be drinking right now. You wouldn't be becoming Dad." Sam swallowed and a tear fell down his face.

"What?"

"You're becoming Dad after Mom died. I see it. I have to stop it. I can't let you become that."

"What are you talking about?"

"Dad was a drunk when Mom died. It took him years to dry out. Years. My childhood wasn't just spent protecting you from the supernatural." Sam's eyes widened a touch more.

"No."

"You can feel the truth in my words Sam. I think this demon sensing thing goes both ways."

"He hit you?"

"It doesn't matter what happened then. I just don't want you to become that Sam. I'll beat the holy hell out of you first. I'll break your bones. I'll do whatever it takes, but I will not allow you to become Dad."

"But…"

"I love Dad. I will always love dad, but I can't let you become that Sam. I can't let you become numb. You are your heart. The way people come to you because you are so innocent, I can't let you loose that in a bottle of whisky. No more than I could let you loose that to demon blood, visions, or my death. Sam. I just can't. I love you too much." Sam was stunned. Dean said that he loved him. Dean smiled, turned red, and tried to not duck his head. "Yeah, yeah, I'll drink a whole bottle of holy water when we get back inside if you want. Can we lay off of the drink? Can we try please Sam?" Sam bit his bottom lip, looked away from his brother and tears slid down his face, and he nodded.

"Yeah. Yeah. Without the drink. Yeah."

"Now, get ready, because I'm just about to kick your ass." Sam smiled and before he knew what was happening Dean punched him in the stomach.

"Dude. New spot." He wheezed. Dean smiled.


	34. House

"Come on kid hurry up." Dean shouted. They had bought the house since their last argument about drinking. The guy who sold it to them didn't want very much for it, said that it was pretty much worthless, so he simply charged them for the land. Dean finally understood the saying one man's trash is another's treasure. Because having a house he could share with his family, a house that would keep them safe, because while Sam and Dean were working on replacing the rotted boards on the outside, Bobby was inside painting the house, just in general, and painting very specific devil's traps in key locations.

"I'm moving as fast as I can." Sam said irritated.

"No, you're moving like you want a drink."

"I do want a drink."

"Well then you need to hit your thumb with a hammer or something." Dean said as he nailed a board into place.

"Why would I want to hit my thumb with a hammer if I'm craving a drink?" Sam asked as he put the board into place underneath the one Dean had just finished securing.

"Because it will take your mind off of it."

"No it won't you idiot." Sam said irritated. He had been irritated most of the time since he had quit drinking. Sam wiped his nose on the outstretched arm, Dean taking advantage of Sam's distraction clubbed his thumb with the hammer. Sam dropped the board and screamed.

"What the hell did you do that for you….you…"

"Jerk?" Dean supplied with a small grin. Sam's eyes narrowed as he stuck his thumb into his mouth. Dean leaned back over and picked up the board.

"Jerk wasn't exactly the word I was looking for."

"I'm sure it wasn't. Now get your ass over here and help me hold this."

"You are a jerk you know that right Dean?" Sam asked as he helped his brother hold the board.

"Yeah. I know. But you were the one who came got me out of hell."

"What does that…" Sam stopped and realized that Dean was joking and took a deep breath willing himself not to kill his brother solely for his horrible sense of humor.

"You still thinking about that drink?" Dean asked as he pounded the nail. Sam stopped and realized that between the pounding in his thumb and the fury he was feeling towards his dumb assed brother, that no, he wasn't thinking about a drink. His eyes narrowed.

"You're good." Sam said and sighed. "But don't forget you are an ass."

"Oh, I won't forget that part. I know I'm good." Dean chuckled and Sam growled low in his throat and thought about how big brothers needed murdered and the best way to do it and dispose of the corpse.

Sam realized that as the sun disappeared over the horizon, that he had had a good day, despite his cravings. He and his family fixing up a house that would be their home and base of operations and just spending time with Dean, spending time with Bobby, just doing regular guy things was wonderful. This was what he had craved when he was a teenager. Had they done this when he was 16 or 17 he might never have left for Stanford and lost those four years with his brother.

That night, after supper, they all got comfortable on their beds and tried to sleep. Every single muscle in Sam's body ached with the work they had done that day but it was a good ach, one he did not regret.

"Dean, you awake?"

"Yeah, Sam. I am."

"What happened in that nightmare?" he asked.

"Which one? I have so many anymore." Dean tried to joke.

"That one you had while I wasn't here…the one you had while I was…" Sam swallowed.

"Getting drunk? That one?"

"Yeah." Sam swallowed hard. "That one."

Dean paused. He thought, he shifted and he fidgeted with the blanket in his hand. "I dreamt." He started and swallowed. "The dream started like normal. Us getting up, having breakfast, and talking. Well, I went to get my clothes and I couldn't find them. I asked you if you had seen my duffel, and you said yeah, that you burnt it. You said it so casually, like you said that my tooth brush was laying on the bathroom sink. No malice no hatred no anything. I turned to you to ask why and your eyes were swimming in purple. You said that I didn't need clothes where I was going." Dean's breath hitched. "That my nakedness would be so much easier, would make the torture easier for the demons. And then, I was back there strapped to the table." Dean shuddered. "The demons were crawling all over my body, touching me, tasting me, and going inside my body in various places, making me touch…blood was everywhere." Dean stopped because Sam put a hand on his arm.

"Dean. I would never."

"I woke up screaming for you. I needed to see your eyes. Needed to see that you weren't that demon." Sam swallowed hard.

"I'm sorry Dean. I'm so sorry." Sam said looking at the ceiling tears forming in his eyes.


	35. Confused Conversations

"Sammy

"Sammy?" Dean asked as he pounded a nail down on the shingle he was attaching to the roof.

"Yeah?" Sam asked from below wiping his forehead with the back of his hand. Dean had handed him a bandanna some hours ago to tie his hair back with, and his baby brother, looked a little stupid in Dean's opinion, but he figured that if the girls at Stanford could see him now they would be drooling all over the tall 26 year old, who was tanned, muscled and soaking wet. Dean laughed a little to himself remembering that half of that wet was when he pushed Sam into the river when they stopped earlier in the day to wash up before lunch. Bobby had not been pleased when he saw both brothers dripping water. He had mumbled something about staying here to get a house ready for adults not children, but under the gruff and the intended insult was a love and respect, and a happiness that the boys were okay enough at the moment to be able to play a little.

"What?" Sam asked a little more impatiently. "Dean? Dean? You okay?" he asked. Dean shook his head.

"Yeah, sorry Sammy, just drifted there for a second."

"What did you want?"

"I was just wondering if you had considered leading that demon army." Dean said as casually as possible. He had been thinking it for days, weeks even, and he just hadn't had the courage to ask his brother.

"What the hell Dean? This morning you are dunking me in the river like I'm a five year old and now you are asking me if I've considered leading the demon army? What were you doing? Just softening me up for the kill?!" Sam demanded suddenly angry.

"No. I wasn't softening you up."

"Then how dare you bring up something like that? On the roof of a house we are fixing. A house that will be the only home we've ever had? How dare you Dean?" Sam threw the board down that he had been cutting and threw his gloves on the ground and headed towards the river. Dean closed his eyes, felt slightly ashamed and tired, put the nails and the hammer back into his tool belt and got off the roof and went after his big sasquach of a brother.

"Sam?" He called out as he headed to the river.

"What?" Sam called bitterly back. He was willing to walk away from his brother, but most certainly not far enough that he couldn't hear him if he called. Dean sat down next to Sam, pulled off his work boots and put his feet in the river.

"I shouldn't' have asked it right then."

"Really? Wow. Mark the calendar, Dean Winchester realized he asked something at the inappropriate time." Sam threw a rock into the water, watched the splash, and turned back to Dean.

"Why are you even thinking about that?"

"I think about it all of the time really." Dean admitted starring out over the water avoiding Sam's eyes.

"Why?"

"Because I'm constantly fighting the demons."

"Demons can't get inside."

"They're already inside."

"What the hell?"

"That's just it Sammy. My soul is back but the demons left marks on it. I fight the darkness, that panic every single day. And I smell you, I feel you, I know your thoughts almost when you do, because you are marked by hell, and as Bobby so eloquently put it, I'm hell's bitch." Sam swallowed.

"Do you need me to leave?" Dean's head snapped up and turned to his brother, who had tears in his eyes.

"Why would you ask that? Did you take the same idiot pill I apparently took this morning?"

"If you can sense the.." Sam paused and tried to say it.

"Demon blood."

Sam nodded. "Then doesn't that bother you?"

"No. Really it doesn't. It lets me know you are still there. It is comforting really. Easier to take care of you."

"Then…"

"I was just thinking, that there are so many demons out there, that it might be a good thing for you to be their leader."

"I don't want to lead freaking demons, I don't want visions, I don't want powers, I don't want the demon blood inside of me. I want nothing other than…"

"To be normal."

"Yeah."

"Well let's face it Sammy. You aren't normal. Neither am I. Not anymore. Not with my experiences. We can't always have what we want." Sam thought about that for a minute.

"I don't want to be a freak." Dean nodded.

"Too late for that." Sam turned and Dean smiled.

"Come on. We have a lot of work left to do on the house. Let's get it done."

"Dean.."

"Just think it over. You'd make a good leader." Dean stood. "Come on Sammy." Sam looked up at his big brother and Dean forced a smile, turned and headed back towards the house. Sam hauled his butt up and followed after.


	36. New Terrors

"So, I see you haven't told your brother the things that you did while you were in Hell." The demon taunted. Dean's jaw clenched. It had been a couple of weeks since Bobby went back to his salvage yard and he promised to call if he heard of any demon activity around their new home, because that was pretty much all the traveling Dean was up to right about now. So, he called, and here they were, in a warehouse outside of the city with a demon tied to a chair taunting him, and Dean feeling the pressure of the darkness keenly.

"Shut up." Dean said as he rounded the chair.

"Oh I don't think I'll be the one shutting up bitch." Dean's fist smacked the guy so fast that neither demon nor Sam was aware it was even raised. Dean got mere inches from the demon's stolen face.

"I am no one's bitch." Dean said lethally.

"Dean." Sam was asking if he should start the exorcism. Dean didn't respond, his eyes glued to the demon who was laughing at him.

"Oh, I think you are." He said with a smirk. "I think you need to look at Sam and tell him what you really think of him." The demon said. Dean felt the overwhelming urge to open his mouth and say something that he didn't mean. He heard the words screaming loudly in his head, and his mouth was starting to open, but he fought, he fought the power so hard that he relinquished control of the darkness and it over took him. A long and loud scream came out of Dean's mouth and he scurried away from the demon. Sam stood there terrified. "I told you Dean, you still are hell's bitch." Sam let out a ferocious scream actually startling the demon in the chair. When the demon's eyes were on his, Sam began chanting the exorcism that Dean had taught them while they worked on the house. The exorcism that would not simply banish the demon back to hell but kill it. He took pleasure in each scream of pain, enjoyed the steam billowing from the host's mouth, and loved the pure death scream that was accompanied by the pyrotechnics of a dying demon. The host's head fell forward and blood oozed from his mouth. He was dead. Dean had hit him so hard that he broke the man's neck. Sam didn't care, for the first time in his life, he didn't care about an innocent life, all that he cared about was that his brother was huddled in on himself screaming and rocking and making the sounds that he had made before Bobby had been possessed, before the house, before life had started to get back on track.

He ran to Dean's side. He touched his shoulder. Dean flinched. It didn't stop Sam this time. He pulled him close.

"Dean the demon is gone. Gone. It's just me. Come on. Push the dark. Push at it hard. Come on big brother, I can't let you do this to me." He put Dean's head under his chin and rocked him. "Come on Dean. Come back." He said and started to cry

"Sammy?" Dean's voice was high and strained.

"Dean?" he asked. He pulled his brother away from his chest and looked at his face and noted that it was pale and drawn and his eyes were huge and frightened, just like they had been before the past several months, before the healing.

"Get me home." He said quickly and in a high voice. "Now. As fast as you can get me home." Sam stood and grabbed his brother's arm and did his best to half drag him half carry him into the car and back home. He couldn't do this again. Never again, would they hunt a demon if this was the result. Dean's loud keening was echoing through the car. He looked in the rearview mirror and watched his brother's terrified eyes. No. Never.

A single thought crept into Sam's mind. If Dean got this freaked out by one demon, then how could he handle his brother leading an entire army of them? The thought sent a chill down Sam's spine. What if Dean hadn't been the one asking?


	37. Frustrated

The closer they got to home the better Dean became. He quit keening and the quiet was almost as disconcerting as the noise had been, in the silence, Sam checked the rearview mirror more than normal. It was too reminiscent of the night he put Dean into the back of the Impala, dead, destroyed, and his soul taken into hell. That night still haunted Sam's dreams.

"You okay?" Sam asked.

"Keep driving." Dean said thinly. Sam did as instructed. He pulled up in front of their newly refinished home. Good memories swirled around it. Many days of hard labor went into repairing the outside and inside. They had been able to lay off of their training because of the work on the house. Both had their bodies restored to their normal muscle mass, and if Sam or Dean cared about such things they both would have admitted that their shirts were a little too tight now a days.

A long sigh escaped his brother and Sam turned to look at him. Sweat beaded on his forehead, his skin was pale, and his eyes were wide, and his freckles were standing out starkly against the white of his flesh, but he didn't look as panicked as he did.

"Dean?" he questioned softly.

"I'm okay. I can get out on my own. I'm a little shaky." He admitted and opened the door and Sam was instantly at his side ready to offer assistance. Dean shook his head and put a hand up. "I think I got it." Sam walked slowly keeping pace with Dean and hovered more when they went up the few steps to the porch. Dean stopped at the top of the stairs and looked around.

"We did a good job Sammy." He mumbled. Confused Sam nodded. He pulled out the keys to their home and unlocked the door and they went inside.

"You seem better." Sam said as Dean took a seat on the chair that Sam had built. He nodded.

"I am better. I'm safe here." Sam retrieved a bottle of water from the cooler and put it down in front of his brother and took a chair and sat it in front of him.

Dean took a swig of the bottled water. "What happened back there?" Dean closed his eyes and leaned back against the chair.

"The darkness won."

"What are you talking about? You keep talking about this darkness but I don't understand."

"It's like this, panic…" Dean struggled to find the words to describe it. "It's like my time in hell is just locked in a part of my head. I can keep it at bay when I'm safe, or feel safe, or when your life is threatened." Dean sighed ran a hand down his face. 'I don't' really know Sam. All I know is that demon was trying to control me and I pushed against the demon, I pushed with everything I had and that took my energy away from the darkness that I'm always pushing back and I lost it. I just lost it." He said softly.

"Do demons control you often?"

Dean's eyes sprang open and he leaned forward. "What the hell? No! How can you ask me that?"

"Well, not too long ago you asked me if I wanted to lead the demon army."

"Yeah, I did, and I meant it."

"That was all you?" Dean's eyes went from tired to angry in less time than it took for a human's eyes to go black with demon possession.

"What are you implying Sam?"

"I…it was just out of character for you to suggest that."

"If you understood what I had been through, you wouldn't think it was out of character."

"You never tell me what went on in the pit. You shut down. You're ready to beat the shit out of me, but you won't talk to me. That much hasn't changed." Dean took a deep breath and counted to ten. He didn't want to prove his brother right by pummeling him just because he was sorely pissed at him right this very second. To even suggest that he was allowing a demon to control his mouth, actions, or even thoughts was ludicrous. When that demon had tried to make him say things, things that he didn't mean or want Sam to even hear, he fought with everything he had, risked being put back into his salt circle corner. He would risk permanent death if it meant he wouldn't ever be controlled by a demon again.

"Sammy, I can't talk about it right now. I can't. You said that I was down there a week. Well, to me it felt like a lifetime or two. They did a whole lot to me in that time. They made me do things, think things, say things, that I didn't believe in or want to do. Just know, that I would rather be dead than be controlled by another demon." Dean said darkly.

"Then I don't understand why you would want me to lead them. I mean, one demon reduces you to rocking back and forth. What would hundreds do to you?" Dean shrugged.

"I don't know. All I do know is that we have to get rid of them, before they turn up the war. We can't allow them to do that Sammy, or hell will really be on earth, I don't want anyone to experience that."

"Do they have plans?"

"Oh, boy, do they."

"So you know the plans?"

"Some of them. Some. Not all."

"Don't you think it would be a good idea to share those with me?"

"Eventually, when I stop shaking inside."

"Well, you may need to tell me before the shaking stops."

"I'll tell you Sammy, I'll tell you." Dean closed his eyes and took a deep breath. 'I just want time."

"I can't give you a lot of time Dean. If the demons have a plan we are going to need a lot of time to rally the troops."

"You going to take the demons?"

"The hunters. They will need to organize and know what is going on, have a base of operations, the whole thing."

"Gonna need the demons."

"Why don't you go to bed and get some sleep." Sam said tiredly. Dean nodded. Sam helped him up and into his own room. Sam closed the door and sat on the floor next to his brother's bedroom. Leading a demon army and his stubborn assed brother chased their tails in his head. What in the world was he going to do? His fingers itched to get a bottle and drink. But he heard Dean's voice in his head. He had to be ready, just in case night time yielded information that was too guarded for the daytime.


	38. Purple

Sam retrieved the wash cloth and soaked it with cold water from the faucet and ran back into his brother's room. Every night for the past two weeks, ever since they had hunted that demon, Dean had woken up screaming, sweat pouring from his face, and Sam would run into the room and reassure him that he was still there that the demons weren't around and he would calm down, and Sam would always ask what the nightmares were about and he always said "not now Sam" and rolled over and went back to sleep. Sam had learned to stay in the room, stay in the bed, or at least stay in physical contact with his brother, because the first night when he had gone back to his room, which was right next door, which had a door built into the room so he could get to Dean straight through, Dean had only slept a few minutes before the screaming started back up.

"It's okay Dean." Sam said reassuringly, putting the washcloth on the back of Dean's neck and holding onto his arm with the other.

"Sammy?"

"It's me Dean. It's your Sammy."

"They are gonna start coming Sammy." He said, voice shaky.

"You said that last night Dean. I don't understand." Dean closed his eyes and swallowed hard.

"The army is getting ready. They know where a lot of hunters are."

"How do they know that?" Sam asked. Dean said nothing. "Dean? Don't shut down on me now man."

"I told them." Dean said quietly.

"What do you mean you told them?

"In hell. While I was in hell. I told them."

"They know where Bobby is?"

"Yeah. Sam. They know where Bobby is."

"I don't understand?"

"What is there to understand? I was weak. They got the information they wanted then they cut out my tongue." He stopped realizing he was about to reveal what had happened to him in hell. "I told them about Bobby." Dean started to cry. "I gave away everything about the people who have protected me and helped me." Dean said and started to crawl into a ball and Sam recognized the danger in this movement, and he pulled his brother's legs down and forced him to look into his eyes. Tears pooled in Dean's green orbs. Sam grabbed his brother's chin and forced him to look at him.

"Listen to me Dean." Dean was locking down. His eyes were starting take on that lost quality. "Dean!" Sam shouted trying to get Dean's attention. It didn't work. "Dean!!" he yelled again. Dean's eyes were slowly shutting down and his face was strained with fear. Sam dug underneath Dean's pillow and grabbed the knife he still kept there. "Dean, help! Help Dean!" he said in his best panicked little brother voice which right now wasn't too hard. He took the knife and sliced his arm allowing blood to flow freely. "Dean!" he yelled again, and his brother's eyes seemed to focus on the blood that was in front of his face and by degrees woke up from his self imposed exile. Dean grabbed his arm and pulled him towards him. He had the knife in his other hand before Sam knew what was going on.

"Sammy?" he asked gruffly.

"Fine Dean."

"You're bleeding." He said softly.

"I made myself bleed."

"What?"

"I needed you here with me. Not curled up in a ball in the corner of the room. The last time you got out of it was when I was under attack to well, you taught me how to be believable." Dean closed his eyes and sagged back against the headboard. Tears started to leak out of his eyes again.

"What did they threaten you with?"

"What?"

"To make you give up Bobby and others."

"They said that they would force the switches in your head to be thrown. They showed me what it would be like for you. It was going to hurt you so bad." His voice hitched. "Blood was everywhere, coming out of your nose, mouth, ears, eyes…the eyes." Dean stopped and Sam took a hold of his brother's hand providing strength. "Your eyes were…were demonic. It was a new color. It was like a purple or something." Dean's tears flowed faster. "I wasn't there to save you. I couldn't stop them. They said that if I told that they wouldn't have to do that to you because then they would have what they wanted. So I talked. I talked. So help me god I told them everything I knew." He put a hand to his eyes and covered them while he sobbed. "I.." he swallowed trying to finish the story. "Once I told them. They cut out my tongue. Then they told me that they were going to do it to you anyway. They left me there choking on my own blood and screaming wordlessly. Oh God Sam. I'm responsible." Sam pulled his brother into his chest. Sam's eyes watered with unshed tears and he let them go. There was no pretending everything was all right.

"Dean. It's okay. We'll fix this. We'll fix this." And for the first time since the Yellow Eyed Demon had mentioned leading the army, Sam was seriously considering it.


	39. Bobby

It took an hour and a phone call to Bobby to make sure he was all right and that he had had his tattoo repaired to calm Dean down. Once not hysterical, Dean was able to tell Bobby what he had done in Hell. Able to tell him of his transgressions and the possible repercussions of his loose tongue. Bobby, instead of yelling like Dean expected, reassured him that all would be well, that the three of them could handle this, and not to worry. Finally, before Dean handed off the phone to Sam he said, "Son, you put up with a lot being in the pit. And if all that slipped was where a few hunters lived, then you should be given an award for all you went through. Lesser men wouldn't have been able to hold onto the rest. I'm proud of you son." Dean choked. He literally felt his throat close up. He didn't deserve anyone's pride. He had screwed up. Screwed up so badly that Bobby could end up dead.

"Don't say that Bobby." Dean said hoarsely.

"Why not?"

"Because I am about to be responsible for the deaths of hundreds of good people."

"But, Dean, you came out of yourself to save me from possession, you've gotten your brother dry and between the three of us, I think we can handle this."

"You didn't think we could handle it when we fought the seven deadly sins." Dean remembered.

"Well, son, your brother and I learned a lot in the week you were gone. Trust us."

"Bobby…"

"Anything other than that boy and you are going to imply that you don't trust me or your brother and that would not be a wise move on your part." Thick silence on both ends. Dean considered the warning. Did he trust Bobby and Sam? Yes. With his life. He chose his next words carefully.

"Thank you Bobby." He said.

"Damn right. Now, I'll start the calling and let other hunters know what is going on. You and your brother get yourselves sorted that way. I'll call you boys every day. I'll also let you know if we hear of any demonic activity."

"Thanks Bobby."

"Your welcome." When the phone was put away and Dean was confident enough to get off of the floor, and even slightly embarrassed for having soaked his brother's shirt with tears, he went for their half finished kitchen, he took milk out of the cooler and made himself a bowl of cereal. He leaned against the counter and looked at Sam.

"About the army."

"What about it?"

"Considered leading it?"

"I don't want to be the purple eyed demon, Dean." he said and took a bite of cereal.

"But what if you won't?"

"Dean, the demons showed you what would happen when the switches were flipped."

"That was involuntarily."

"The visions hurt like a son of a bitch. I don't really feel like going through that voluntarily."

"But what if that pain will save millions of people from becoming Hell's bitch. I can say from experience that being bitch of hell's isn't a pleasant experience. I wouldn't wish that on my worst enemy." He said not looking at his brother, just watching his cereal bowl.

"I don't want to be evil. I don't want dad's prediction to come true." He swallowed the mouthful and looked up at his brother. Dean looked up and caught his hazel eyes. "I don't want you to have to kill me. That would destroy you."

Dean waited a beat before replying. "There would be two gun shots Sammy. One to your head and one to mine. That would be all. I can't live with you dead." Sam nodded.

"We learned that the hard way, remember?" Dean smiled and nodded.

"Seriously though Sammy. I wouldn't let you be evil. You weren't evil when you had the visions remember? We were able to help more people because of them. It was sort of like a blessing. Remember when you saved me, by moving that dresser or whatever with your mind? You saved me. You didn't hurt anyone with it. You helped people. You could really help a lot of people with this."

"But I would be leading a bunch of demons. I would be working with them."

"You worked with Ruby."

"That was different."

"Not really. Just this time I want you in control not her. Please Sammy, think about it. We can get this done, and done right. And you will still have your soul intact." He put the bowl down into the make shift sink. "Now I'm going to get to work fixing that television set you found."

"Dean, the sink?"

"Eh. River works too. Can't get CSI on the river." He laughed. Sam raised his eyes towards heaven, thanked him for his brother, and then asked him why exactly he had to make him so annoying.


	40. Going Green

There always seemed to be something to do around their new home. Dean enjoyed the distraction it brought him. His mind these days seemed to be filled with demons and the feeling that they were coming closer and closer and that he had to find a way to stop it, and without his brother's help he was powerless to do anything about it. So, instead he worked on the porch, or the electricity that he still didn't have wired to the second floor, or the plumbing that was leaking when one of them used the toilet. The amount of water that could leak out of a toilet was still impressive to Dean. But while he had been starring at the ceiling watching the water almost pour out if it in amazement Sam was yelling at him that it needed fixed because he had just finished the floors, which he had stained a very nice color Dean had to admit, and he didn't want the finish destroyed. That had earned Sam an amused look followed by, "Dude you have to be kidding me?"

So, here he was, again, trying to figure out the pipes and not really finding the problem. He would have to have Sam get on the internet tonight and pull up the directions for how exactly a toilet should be hooked up.

"Dean?" He heard Sam call as he clomped up the stairs. "Dean?" he called again.

"Bathroom."

"Fixing that damned thing I hope. I really am tired of doing my business outside."

"Come on Sammy." Dean said as Sam entered the bathroom. "It is the natural way of things. Weren't you just talking the other day about going green? Wasn't that your excuse that perhaps we needed a more fuel efficient car? Just think of using the great outdoors for your toiletries that you are doing your part to become green."

"Quit mocking me Dean."

"Not mocking. Just wondering." Sam rolled his eyes.

"Well, I came up here to tell you that I was headed out to get us some supplies. Since the stove still doesn't work, we are still reduced to eating cold sandwiches or take out, and we need bread and some milk. I'll be back."

"Going to take my non green car?" he asked.

"Shut up Dean."

"Make me bitch."

"Jerk." Sam yelled in decent. Dean laughed and continued trying to put the pipes back together.

Dean hated when Sam left the house without him. But he would never let Sam know that. Never let Sam know that the moment his presence faded away with the sound of his car, that panic would settle in and it was a battle from that moment forward to keep his sanity. He had to fight tooth and nail every second that Sam was away. He always heard in the back of his head a little voice telling him that if Sam only knew that he would leave him behind and never come back again. That Dean would be back in his salt circle and he would die of fear. Dean was afraid that when he died for real next time, that he would go right back down to the pit. That was enough to make him reconsider digging up Doc Benton.

He focused on the task at hand and willed himself to stay in the here and now, to ignore the voice, to press the fear down and keep it locked behind its door. Sweat poured off of him and he tried to ignore it. His heart pounded harder and harder and then his hands started to shake. He wanted to run away. Wanted to find somewhere safe, somewhere where the dark couldn't take him. He laid there, breathing heavy, trying to get himself under control. He felt like he had been lying there for hours, maybe days. The panic was starting to overtake him. Then it released a little. The presence of his brother coming back to him.

"Dean? I'm back." Sam called completely oblivious to the torture Dean was suffering.

"Here Sammy." He called out with shaking voice.

"Dean?" Sam called as he headed up the stairs. "Dean?" he looked back into the bathroom and saw his brother sweating profusely lying on the floor, eyes wide and frightened.

"Dean, what happened?" Dean swallowed thickly.

"Nothin'."

"Like hell. Talk to me."

"Not now Sammy." Sam's jaw clenched and he counted to ten before he spoke.

"I need to understand what is going on. Dean. You need to talk to me. Why are you so scared?" Dean didn't speak. He just kept starring and shaking. "Fine. You don't want to talk to me. I'll leave you alone."

"No!" Dean screamed. "Don't leave me! Please. Don't leave me. I'm sorry." Dean grabbed at Sam's pants and when Sam looked down he saw tears streaming down his brother's face. It never stopped shocking him to see his brother cry. Never.

"I wasn't going to go far. Just clear my head."

"Don't leave me. You can't leave me. Please." Sam sat down next to his brother.

"Okay. Okay. I'm sorry. I won't leave. What is the matter?" Dean swallowed hard and tried to get himself under control. The panic forced to take it's icy hooks out of him now that Sam was in the room.

"Scared. I'll be okay. I'll be okay." He repeated hoping to calm himself.

"Dean. I'll always be here. Always." Sam rested his head against the wall and wished he knew what to do, how to get his brother to talk. Dean needed to talk, and Sam needed to listen.


	41. Sandwiches

Sam managed to get Dean to come down stairs and sit down while he fixed a sandwich for his brother and himself. Putting the plate in front of his brother with a bottle of water, Sam did the same for himself and sat down.

"Talk to me." Sam said finally.

"I really don't know where to start."

"What wakes you up at night?" Sam asked. Dean raised an eyebrow and shook his head.

"Lots of different things." He sighed and picked at the bread on the sandwich. "Sometimes I'm being tortured, sometimes you are, sometimes I'm just being held against my will, alone, somewhere dark, for what feels like forever." Sam didn't prompt he just waited for his brother to continue. "I don't remember a lot from the first couple of minutes down there." He started slowly. "I remember pain, so much of it, it was like I was blind." He paused again trying to keep himself from falling apart. "I was blind to everything except the pain." Dean licked his lips. "I don't know if I can tell you anymore Sammy."

"You have to."

"Why do I have to?"

"Because you can't live with the nightmares. You can't continue to be so scared when I leave the house that you have a panic attack. Dean, you can't live like this, you aren't living."

"But, Sammy, will rehashing this do anything but make me relive it, make me feel it again?"

"When I was having visions, when I had all of those nightmares, sharing them with you made me feel better. Sure it was scary to tell you, to relive it for a second, but when I shared, you were able to help me carry it. You helped me not be quite so terrified. So yeah, I think it will help."

Dean mulled that over. Every time he remembered anything about his stay in hell, he buried it back in his mind, behind the same door as the panic. He didn't want to unlock the door because then the panic might get out and consume him. He looked up at Sammy and realized that he always said that he trusted his brother with his life, and he meant it, but he always thought that just meant the physical. But right then he realized it meant all of him. So he took a breath and started to speak.

"Well, Sammy," he licked his lips and cleared his throat. "I was in this room. It was huge. It seemed like it didn't have any walls. Just space. And me in the center strapped to a table. There was a spot light on me, and the light was harsh and hot. Not the warm glow of the sun, but more like the harsh light of fire when it is wild…kinda like the fire light that a burning corpse makes. The restraints were biting into my wrists and ankles. The one across my throat was so tight that it hurt to swallow. They taped my eye lids open, burning my eyes. I screamed. I don't remember what I was screaming, but I know that I was, and I did so until I had nothing left to scream with. I must have passed out a couple of times, I can't remember, I just know it felt like I woke up, like I came back to consciousness. There were three of them. I couldn't actually see them, the light had burned away my eyes and I was blind by that point.

"They started talking, and at first it was nothing but jibberish. Just kept making noise, then someone grabbed my face tight. They said something like 'we've finally got the late great Dean Winchester. Not so great now are you.' Something like that. Then they started telling me things about you. Telling me that my deal had been broken when you shot the cross roads demon, but you had made a deal. Made a deal that I would still go to hell if they left you alone. Let you get back to your normal life, because really I was the only one holding you back, and with me gone you would be okay again. They would give you Jessica back." A sharp intake of breath on Sam's side stopped Dean's recount and he ventured to look up at his brother. His eyes were wide, his mouth was slightly open. Dean didn't let him say anything, he just continued.

"They told me that you made the deal for her, that you made the deal to have law school and a normal life. That I was the only reason the visions started in the first place, that if it hadn't been for me dragging you out there to find Dad, that you and Jessica would have been happy and had your kids and she never would have died. So they said that really all they did was put things back into the right order. I yelled something about how you would never do that. They laughed and forced images into my head, kinda like what Andy did, and showed me what you said to the demon, what you were doing now that I was in hell. I saw your wedding, I saw how happy you were, I watched you junk the Impala, watched the tow truck take it away. When Jessica asked why you said that it was just a hunk of junk that housed psychotics. The demons tuned off their horrific scenes and I felt blood running down my face. They laughed and told me that it was just like me, to not be happy for my brother who got exactly what he deserved. That I was so selfish that I couldn't get that I had destroyed your life. Then they left me. Left me with the images of you and Jessica living your lives, enjoying life, and you never missing me. Never caring that I was alone in hell." Dean picked at his sandwich some more.

"Dean?" Sam said after a few minutes of silence. "Dean?" he said again. Dean finally looked up and he couldn't stop the tears running down his face.

"Were they right? Was it my fault that Jessica died? Would you have made that deal?" Dean looked so pathetic that it brought tears to Sam's eyes.

"No they weren't right. It wasn't your fault Jess died. And no. I would never ever have made that deal. Dean, I spent a whole year trying to get you out of the contract. That wasn't for show. That was genuine. When you died." Sam stopped gathered himself. He had choked on the word. "When you died, I couldn't take it. It was like my world stopped. I would never have ever voluntarily given you up." Dean nodded. He took his sandwich and took a bite out of it. Not hungry, but needed something in his mouth. He couldn't' tell Sammy anymore right now. He couldn't. He had said a lot. Shared more than he thought he would. A little at a time. This little release was okay. But anything bigger and he might crack. Next time he would tell a little more, and a little more. Hopefully Sam would be patient.

"These sandwiches aren't bad Sammy." He said and Sam knew the moment was gone and that Dean wouldn't be sharing any more today. And honestly that was okay. Sam couldn't take a lot more today.

"Thanks. Gonna finish fixing the toilet?" he asked trying to return to normal.


	42. Leading

Dean hated to admit that the caring and sharing was really helping him hold the darkness back. Sometimes he even thought that perhaps it wasn't holding the darkness back as much as it was making it go away. So every single time he woke up cradled in Sam's arms, being told that it was only a nightmare, and that he wasn't in hell anymore, and that he was there and he would make sure nothing happened to him, Dean would choke back the tears that were lumped in his throat and respond to his brother's request for sharing.

He told Sam everything from physical tortures, mental anguish, to spiritual degradation. He told Sam of the multilayered horror of being castrated and left to live as half of who he was before the whole ordeal. He told him about how he had been conscious when they did it, conscious when they left him strapped to the table. He shared with Sam that they let him get off the table and let him think he had escaped, think that he had made it back out of hell and back to hunting, back to Sam, back to life as he had known it. Allowed him to live in misery. Because everyone laughed at him when they found out about his missing manhood. Sam had laughed and asked him who was the girl now, Bobby started calling him his daughter, and women, well he had left women alone. Then the demons had returned, returned him back to his cell and all he could hear was laughter echoing off of the walls. They had allowed him to believe it all just so they could laugh.

Sam listened to the horrors his brother shared, and he always tried to look as if he was okay, as if what his brother was telling him wasn't so horrible that it made him long for a bottle of jack to dull his senses enough that he couldn't empathize with his brother. Sometimes, when Dean went back to sleep, Sam would stay up and sit on the front porch, nursing a cup of coffee, and telling Bobby about the nightmare that he had had listen too. He would cry and through clenched teeth ask the older hunter why his brother had to go through that? Ask him if he thought that Dean's torture was worth Sam's life? Bobby didn't answer those questions, he simply said that Dean was the one who could tell him that. And he left it at that. He always listened, he never judged or tried to insert his opinion, and Sam was glad. Sam needed an outlet, needed a way to get rid of the pain he felt for his brother, or he would turn that pain inward and go for that bottle of Jack or seek out something much worse to ease the pain.

One night, however, when Sam dialed Bobby's number to tell him the new horror that Dean had revealed, the grizzled hunter didn't give him time to talk. He simply said. "Get Dean on the phone."

"What's wrong Bobby?"

"I need to talk to Dean, the demons seem to be congregating. He wanted to know when the demonic activity started brewin', well boy it has." Sam ran inside, shook his brother awake and handed him the phone. Dean didn't say enough for Sam to figure out anything more and when Dean hung up the phone Sam looked at him expectantly.

"I need you to lead this army Sam." Dean said after starring at his brother for a moment.

"What?"

"Sammy. They are coming. We need to gather up all of the demons who are willing, if there are any left, to follow you."

"Dean. I refuse to do that."

"You have no choice Sammy. You were wired to do this."

"I don't' give a damn what the Yellow Eyed demon 'wired' me for. I'm human. I can make decisions. And this is one I've made."

"Sammy, listen to me. You have to. They know where the hunters are. They know. They will destroy the earth and only keep enough alive to have meat suits. That's it. They will destroy humanity and all of the souls on earth with it. Damnit Sam! This is more important than what it will make you feel like. I need you to do this for me Sam. I don't anything of you. I never have."

"Dad…"

"I'm being serious Sam! Please." Dean looked at his brother with wide frantic eyes pleading for him to do this. Sam's eyes searched his brother's and tried to make sense of this. Knew without a doubt that the decision he made here and now could affect a lot more than just his and Dean's lives.

"What do you know?" Sam asked finally.

"I know that you can lead them to do anything you want them to do."

"Are you sure about that?"

"Positive."

"If I go evil, will you promise to kill me? I refuse to live like that." Sam said evoking an old put still painful promise. Dean swallowed hard.

"Yes."

"You have to be sure about that. No more deals with demons to go to hell and save me. No more of that. If I go evil. You kill me. Simple as that. Do not pass go do not collect 200 dollars."

"I promise Sammy."

"What's dead—"

"Should stay dead. Yes. Yes. Yes." Dean waited for his brother's answer. Sam lowered his eyes and sighed.

"How do we do this?"


	43. Letting Hell Win

Dean outlined his plan for Sam to lead the demon army, as he got dressed, and Sam listened patiently and with as open of a mind as he could. But his brother was asking him to lead the army. His brother who was on Sammy saving detail for his entire life was telling his brother to risk himself and his soul for this operation. Sam couldn't shake the concern niggling in the back of his mind, couldn't stop the doubt that was spreading throughout his body, the worry that perhaps his brother, wasn't exactly speaking for himself. What if Dean was being controlled by a demon from the inside? Maybe he wasn't possessed, maybe Dean didn't even know that they were talking through him. Maybe this was the plan the demons had concocted. Bobby said that there was demonic activity, more so than usual, even with the army of demons unleashed, but he didn't say that they were knocking on any hunter's doorsteps. Sam definitely needed more information.

"So, what do you think Sammy? You gonna do it?"

"I don't know Dean. I need time to think."

"But I thought…"

"Just because I wanted to know how we were going to do this, doesn't mean that I am ready to go dark side for this."

"You didn't hear me. You wouldn't go darkside."

"Says you Dean. Dean, I don't think you really know what is going to happen."

"What?" Dean asked astonished.

"I'm not sure this is you talking."

"I've drank gallons of holy water, you've christoed me to death since I've been better, and you still don't believe that I'm not possessed? What the hell dude?"

"I don't think that you are possessed. I know you aren't. That's not it Dean. A lot happened to you in hell-"

"Great. Now you are going to use my nightmares against me. I didn't think that was something that you, of all people would do, I thought that you wanted me to tell you so I'd be better, not so you could use them against me. I never did that to you."

"You aren't letting me talk." Sam said in frustration. "I think they may have done something to you down there. Left a piece of them, sort of like a tape recorder in your brain. Think Dean. You always told me that there was no way I would lead that army. That my destiny didn't matter. That I made my own way. Dean, you are starting to sound like them. You are wanting me to do something that may fundamentally change me. Something that may make me someone else, may make me a monster. That just isn't like you Dean." Dean looked at his brother wide eyed. Realization sunk in. Sam was right. This wasn't like him. Before hell, he never would have even considered letting his brother think about the possibility of leading hell spawn, no matter how "innocent" they seemed. Why was he encouraging this? He strained to find the answer to that question, he pierced through the explanations he had given Sammy like a knife through paper, and once the excuses were gone, there was just a wall, and he couldn't get through that wall, he couldn't go around it, and he couldn't climb it. It was impenetrable and he couldn't find the answer, he couldn't get to it. Maybe there were still demons locked up inside his brain.

"Oh God." Dean said and took a step back, backing away from his brother. His eyes were wild and scared.

"Dean?" Sam asked and took a step forward.

"Get away." He whispered.

"Dean?" Sam asked again, Dean put his hands out in front of him warding off his brother.

"If your right, then they are still controlling me. This may not even be real. Oh God Sammy."

"Dean, Dean, stay right here. I'm real. I swear I'm real."

"That's what you said when I was captured by the Djin too. Oh God." He whined again.

"Dean. Snap out of this!" Sam yelled as he grabbed and shook his brother's shoulders. He pulled him into a hug. "Dean, Dean, stay with me brother. Stay with me." He felt tremors run through his body and Sam wasn't sure if they were his or the elder hunter's. He couldn't let Dean go back to the salt, couldn't loose him again. He could not let Hell win again.


	44. Can't Live Like This

Dean didn't last long in Sam's embrace. He managed to get himself under control and then he pushed his brother away from him. "Get off." He mumbled and stood, Sam caught a glimpse of Dean's expression and it chilled him to the bone. It was the same expression that he wore for months after their father's death. He was closing himself off, shutting down. Sam suddenly realized that there weren't going to be anymore night sessions of listening to his brother's nightmares. Dean wasn't going to say much of anything anymore. Sam sighed and sagged against the wall. All of the progress they had made was going to go straight down the drain.

For the next week Dean said nothing other than what was necessary for two people who lived together. He worked on the plumbing and electric from the moment he got up until the moment he showered and went to bed.

Sam didn't accept his brother's silence but he respected it, he didn't tip toe around his brother and he most certainly didn't shy away from being in the same room with him. So when he was hungry after hours of working outside in the hot sun, trying to get the porch to a place in its life where it would support more than one person's weight on the west side, he didn't hesitate to open the front door and go to the kitchen where his brother was sitting finishing a peanut butter and jelly sandwich and a bottle of water.

Sam washed his hands and face in the kitchen sink and fixed himself the same sandwich and grabbed a bottle of water and sat in front of Dean and began to eat. He felt Dean's eyes on him but he didn't look up, didn't acknowledge his brother. He simply continued to eat.

"Why did you get me out?" Dean asked quietly. Sam's head snapped up and he stopped chewing.

"What?" he asked with a mouth full of sandwich.

"Why did you bother getting me out of hell?"

"Why wouldn't I?"

"You didn't have to."

"I needed to."

"But has it been worth it?"

"Yes." No hesitation.

"Really, Sam. Has it been worth it?"

"Yes, it has all been worth it."

"The alcohol, the demon inside of me."

"You don't have a demon inside of you."

"You sure? Because I sure as hell ain't. I feel like there is something there just beyond my reach, what if you are right Sammy? What if the demon is controlling me and telling me to persuade you into leading the demon army? What if that is it?"

"I just won't lead the army. I don't want to Dean. You raised me better than that."

"Sammy, come on." He said and leaned back and leveled his gaze at his brother. "I'm not so sure that it's good that I'm back."

"What are you talking about? Of course it is a good thing that you are back."

"I thought we had learned our lesson; what's dead should stay dead."

"You shouldn't have died in the first place." Sam said angrily.

"Maybe I should have. Maybe I should still be gone."

"No. No!" Sam yelled. "It was wrong that you were in hell! It was wrong that you gave up your life for mine!"

"You're needed out here Sammy!"

"So are you!"

"Yeah, I'm needed so the demons can have a way to get to you, to get you to do what they want you to do. That is not what I want to be! That is not what I want!"

"So, what? You want to end your life?"

"That's a thought." Sam's eyes went wide.

"What the hell is wrong with you Dean?" Sam whispered.

"That Sammy is the million dollar question."

"You really want to commit suicide?"

"I want the demons out of my head Sam. I want this whole thing to be over. I want to be stronger than this."

"You are stronger than this."

"You want me to be stronger than this."

"What?"

"I'm not the hero you think I am Sam. I'm simply a man. And this man doesn't know who he is anymore. And I don't even know if my thoughts are my own or if they are being piped in from the pit. I don't know anything anymore Sam. I can't live like this."


	45. Demon Dreams

Dean woke up in his room, sunlight streaming through the window. He felt refreshed, happy to be up and alive. He hadn't felt like that in a while, and he didn't feel that constant pressure of the darkness on his mind. For once, he felt like his old self. Felt like he could take on the world and any evil son of a bitch that came into his path. He strode to the door that connected the two bedrooms, opened it, and watched as his brother's chest rose and fell with sleep. Sam turned over, readjusted his pillow under his head and Dean closed the door between them. Smiling, he went to his dresser, the first dresser he had ever owned, Sammy built it Sammy was turning out to be rather talented with wood, and pulled out jeans, tee shirt, boxers, and socks and started for his door when he heard something. He turned, and saw a man sitting on his window sill, blocking out the sunlight that had been bathing his room in its warmth.

"Who are you?" Dean asked with narrowed eyes.

"Who do you want me to be?"

"Just answer the damn question."

"Dean, Dean, Dean, you are simply no fun any longer." Dean straightened up. He knew.

"It's you."

"Oh Come now Dean, we shared so many wonderful times together. How can you use that tone with me? We were such a good pair."

"We were not a good pair."

"You were a fantastic puppet."

"I am no one's puppet."

"Oh, now see Dean, that is where you are wrong." The man got off of the window sill but the sun was still missing from his room. "You see, we allowed your brother to take you back because we need you to do your job."

"I am doing my job."

"Not the job your father gave you. But the job we gave you. Now we didn't expect you to use that whole exorcism that kills us. That was unexpected."

"I will never work for you. I am no demon's bitch."

"I'm afraid that you are."

"No, I'm John Winchester's son, and we do not play with devils."

"But you sell your souls to them." That stopped Dean cold. "That got you. We took your soul once and we can take it again." Dean stood straighter.

"I would rather be in hell than work for you." The dark form came closer to Dean and just as it was about to put a hand on him, Dean woke up.

"Dean! Dean!" Sam shouted shaking his brother as hard as he could. When Dean's eyes opened, relief streamed through all of Sam's limbs. "Dean. You okay?"

"I." he stumbled over the words trying to get breath back into his beleaguered body. "I don't know Sammy. I don't know."


	46. Doorway to Hell

Dean's eyes were wild, frightened as they searched Sammy's face. "What was the dream about Dean?"

"Demon, inside of me. The demon is inside." Dean said shakily. His whole body trembled with fear. Sam put a hand on his shoulder trying to steady him, but instead of the touch being comforting it made his brother recoil into himself.

"How can that be Dean? We've done everything. We've made you chug holy water, you've been wearing holy items, I even exorcised you. You aren't possessed, there is no way." Sam said trying to convince himself as much as he was trying to convince his brother.

"Not possessed. Marked. I'm a door way. I'm their tool."

"What do you think that Demons can just move through you into this world? Like a devil's gate?" Dean shook his head no.

"They can talk through me Sam. Make me say things that aren't me. They want you. They want you to become what you aren't."

"Dean, this isn't true. It was just a dream." Dean grabbed Sam's shirt and brought him inches from his face.

"Yes. Sam. It is real. I can feel it. It wasn't a dream. The doorway is the darkness. They want me to follow their orders. I won't. I'll kill myself first."

"Dean. Quit talking like that."

"Do something Sammy."

"I don't know what to do for you Dean."

"Get in my head. Get them out. Or kill me trying."

"I can't Dean!"

"Ruby said there--"

"NO! I will not give into my powers. I will not end up like the others."

"Even if it will save me?" Sam's eyes widened. That was when Sam knew Dean was right. Dean would never risk Sam's life for his own. That just wasn't Dean. Dean seemed to realize it at the same time Sam did and he scooted away from Sam. He ran to the corner of his room and huddled in a corner.

"GET AWAY FROM ME!" He screamed.

"Dean." Sam went to his brother, knelt in front of him, Dean lashed out and knocked Sam over.

"Get away from me!" he demanded and curled himself into a ball. "I want this out of me. I want it out!" Dean yelled as he rocked back and forth. "Sammy do something!" Dean screamed. Stunned Sam couldn't move.


	47. Wordless Screams

Sam didn't know what to do. Didn't know how to make this better. If Dean was right, and the more Sam thought about it the more he thought Dean was, then Dean was being used as a conduit and that the whole lead the demon army thing wasn't about saving the world it was about the demons trying to take control over Sam.

For the first hour after Dean got into his self imposed corner, Sam had tried to coax him out, and every touch was greeted with a frantic scream and once he was smacked in the face when he had gotten too close to Dean. Dean kicked, bit, and did anything he could to keep his brother away from him. Sam backed off after being kicked in the stomach. Dean's face registered an apology but that apology didn't extend to not letting Sam anywhere near him. Sam stood and quickly strode out of the bedroom and located his cell phone and called Bobby.

"Sam?" he asked as soon as he answered.

"Hey Bobby." Bobby could hear the tears in Sam's voice.

"What is that noise?"

"Oh that's just Dean screaming." He said and his voice cracked and tears tumbled down his face.

"What? Why?"

"Oh, the demons have made him a doorway Bobby. They use him to try to get us to do things. He figured it out in a dream last night. Bobby, I don't know what to do." Sam swiped at a tear falling down his nose, was reminded terribly of the night when Dean was taken from him brutally, and he tried to ignore the screaming that was coming from the bedroom. "I need help Bobby."

"I'll be there as soon as I can son."

"Thank you."

"Of course." The connection was severed and Sam went back up stairs and it took all of his will power to step back into his brother's room.

"Sammy! Get it out!" Dean started yelling as soon as he saw his brother through the blood dripping from his eyelashes.

"Dean! What did you do?!" Sam yelled slid to the floor and pulled Dean's blood soaked hands away from his face. A tinge of relief slithered through Sam when he realized that his brother hadn't damaged his eyes but had damaged the skin around his eyes.

"Can't see them Sammy. Need to see them." Sam closed his eyes and prayed that this could be fixed. "I feel them. They are in my head. I want them out." His voice was tinged with panic and every time he repeated that he wanted them out he yelled louder and continued to yell while Sam went and got a wash cloth, washed the blood from his brother's face, and he went horse sometime while Sam was cutting off all of Dean's fingernails and then wrapping his hands up tightly so he couldn't' do anymore damage to himself.

Sam sat with his brother while he wordlessly pleaded for help, and endured the kicking and hitting, because even in his distressed state he was in essence still trying to protect Sam, even if that protection was from himself.

Sam drew his knees up to his chin and wrapped his arms around his long legs and watched his brother scream without sound, saw the cuts up and down his face and the panicked look and the tears started afresh. The thought of getting drunk and passing out right here was very desirable at the moment but he forced himself to follow Dean's orders, and he was forced to feel the pain and despair, to feel his world collapsing around him, the world that he and Dean had so painstakingly just rebuilt.

"Help Me." Dean mouthed.

"Bobby's coming. Bobby can help us fix this Dean. I promise." Dean's uncomprehending eyes fixed just beyond Sam and his mouth continued its wordless scream.


	48. Fix It

Dean passed out somewhere around dawn the next morning. He simply slumped over, eyes wide, mouth frozen in a wordless scream. Sam frantically got out of his position, nearly fell over because his legs had fallen asleep, and he crawled his way to his brother and checked for breathing. He was in fact still breathing and his heart was beating strong, if not a little too fast. Sam slumped down next to his brother.

"Dean you can't keep doing this to me." He muttered. He closed Dean's eyes, because he couldn't stand seeing them open and seeing nothing, and then laid himself close to his brother, resting a hand on his chest to ensure breathing and Sam risked sleeping a little as well.

Sleep was short lived because Dean was awake and it seemed as if the short respite had allowed Dean's voice recuperate just enough to start it's shaking screaming again. Sam awoke with a start and tried to get his brother to calm down, figuring that it was a new day and perhaps Dean had conquered something within him. Instead he got a punch to the jaw. Sam closed his eyes and counted to three trying to get his anger, frustration, sadness, terror and helplessness back under some semblance of control. He wasn't entirely successful, but he was successful enough that he no longer wanted to grab Dean's face and yell at him that he was there and that no demon was going to ever control him.

He stood and went down to the kitchen and pulled a water bottle out of the cooler and went back up stairs. Dean hadn't had anything to eat or drink for over 24 hours now, and he needed at least water in his system. Sam took a deep breath, put the water bottle in the inside pocket of his coat that he had just put on for this purpose.

"Okay, Dean. I'm not loosing you to demons, death, and most certainly not dehydration. I'm sorry about this Dean." Sam, with determination in his eyes, grabbed one of his brother's feet, and was thankful that Dean didn't' have shoes on, and then acquired the second and he sat on his big brother's knees, then he pinned both arms under his long legs, and with Dean secured, he pulled the water out of his coat pocket and unscrewed the cap. Dean's wordless screams were an aid at this point. At least he didn't have to pry his brother's mouth open, that would have been worse. He stilled Dean's head and poured the water down his throat, and then forced him to swallow some of it.

The whole ordeal managed to get about half of the water into Dean's system, and Sam was all right with that. He got up off of the elder hunter and he immediately curled in on himself, and Sam was unprepared for what happened next. Dean rolled onto his side, held his knees up to his chest and began to cry, big fat alligator tears, and he barely made out Dean saying "I want my mommy."

Sam heard car doors later that evening, but he continued to stir the pot that was on the stove. He heard someone knock on the door, but he couldn't pull himself from his spot. If it was Bobby, he would come right in, he knew where the key was. Sure enough Sam heard the lock turn and the door open.

"Sam?" Bobby called. Sam didn't have the strength to call back. Bobby called his name again and again received no answer. The guest at his elbow led him into the kitchen where Bobby saw the big hulk of a man standing in front of a stove stirring something that was boiling.

"Sam? Are you okay?"

"I'm not okay." Sam said and continued to stir.

"Where is Dean, son."

"In his room. Crying. Been crying for the last couple of hours." He said. "Forced water down him a couple of times. Been almost two days since he has eaten, gave the baby food away a while ago, didn't think Dean would ever need to eat that stuff again. Thought he was okay. Though he was different, but thought that I could handle my brother being different as long as he was okay and functioning. I never thought that it would go back to this. We have a home now, he always wanted a home, always wanted some place he could rest on his own bed in his own space, hang his clothes up. A place to work on the Impala. We were almost done with the house. Almost. He was going to build a car for me. He said something that I would like. Gonna call you and ask if he could have a junker. Gonna fix it up for you Sammy. He said. But he won't now will he? I'll be feeding him baby food for the rest of his life. The demons did win. I'll go to the dark side Bobby. If that is what I have to do to get him back then I'll do it." Sam's voice was monotone, completely devoid of emotion. Bobby grabbed the bigger man by the shoulders and spun him around to face him. Tears flowed down Sam's face one by one following the same path down his cheeks and nose and dripping onto the floor.

"Samuel David Winchester!" Bobby yelled. "Don't you ever talk like that again." Bobby demanded. Sam broke down. He buckled and started to sob. He fell against Bobby's shirt and wept.

"I don't know what to do Bobby. I don't know what to do. He wants mom. I can't give him a safe home, what makes him think I can give him back his mother?" Sam clung to Bobby's shirt and elder hunter's heart broke when he heard the heart wrenching sobs coming from the young man.

"Shhhhhh. Sammy, Uncle Bobby will make it all better. I promise." Bobby said patting the youngest Winchester on the back, just like he had when he was younger and had been left behind by his brother and father and had been terrified that they wouldn't come back in one piece. Bobby looked over to the woman he had brought with him, and her eyes had welled up with tears and they were streaming down her chocolate skin.

"Sammy." She tried. She touched his back and he came out of Bobby's shirt enough to look at her. He took a deep ragged choking breath and gave her his full attention.

"Missouri?"

"Yes, Baby."

"Can you fix Dean?" Her heart broke looking the young man whose heart had obviously shattered when his brother's mind had gone to pieces.

"I think we can fix it."

"We?" Sam said trying to stop the sobbing that he had allowed himself.

"Yes, the two of us can fix Dean."

"But…."

"I know you don't have visions anymore."

"The demons want me to lead."

"I know they do. But the fact that they are going through Dean means that they aren't strong enough to attack the two of you directly."

Fresh tears rolled down Sam's cheeks. "Why do they keep killing the people I love? Why can't they just come to me? Just freaking take me out already. Leave my friends and family alone. Dean can't die Missouri. I watched him die once, I'm done. I won't live with him killed because of me ever again."

"I understand Sweetie." She took him from Bobby and hugged him and let him cry on her while she rocked him back and forth. "Shhhhh, Sam we'll get this all fixed." Sam let a sigh escape him as the sobs subsided. He pulled away from her, she wiped his eyes, and he stood a little shakily and looked at the two people who loved him and Dean enough to come and help them. Sam smiled.

"Thank you." His voice ragged from crying. "Let me get this into Dean's stomach and then we can figure out what to do." Sam said and went back to the stove that Bobby had turned off. Bobby and Missouri turned to face each other and both sighed, and prayed that what they had in mind really would fix the problem. Sam wouldn't survive if it didn't.

_A/N: I want to thank all of you for following this story this summer. This story is almost finished. We are getting to the home stretch here. I won't be updating daily or every other day after today. I have to start getting my clasroom ready tomorrow. So you guys will get this story a little at a time over the next couple of weeks. I'll try to finish it soon, I don't want to leave y'all hanging. It will be done on or before September 18. Also, for those who read both, Folk Lore 101 will be updated today and this same note will be attached. Again, you guys have been wonderful this summer. OH also, this chapter is longer, for all of those who have requested longer. Here it is. Stacey._


	49. Thrashing

Missouri had to ignore her abilities while she watched Sam attempt to spoon feed Dean. He thrashed and refused nourishment batting Sam's hands away and finally when Sam wouldn't relent punching him in the jaw, knocking the spoon out of his hands, and then when Sam simply looked at him with sympathy, fear and love Dean kicked him in the stomach and yelled "GO AWAY SAM!" The emotions pulsing from both brothers was almost more than she could take, more than her defenses, which had always been so easy to erect and block transmissions she didn't care to hear, were more than inadequate. Her defenses merely muffled the waves of despair, protectiveness, panic, love, hurt, fear, and anguish that both brothers were feeling. Sam's thoughts were coming in whispers and they felt like little rats trying to eat away her shields, while Dean thoughts screamed sometimes wordless and felt as if he were banging against her thin walls. Between the two of them she knew she wouldn't be able to shield herself from them for long. There was just too much, too much of everything.

Sam caught his breath after the foot to the stomach, and stood shakily and went to retrieve the spoon. When he turned back around Bobby was holding Dean's bandaged hands down and Dean was struggling against the grip trying to get his hands free, but cool calm and collected Bobby refused to let them go and he sat there like a rock in a hurricane keeping Dean's fists at bay. Sam felt his world crumble a little more. Once, there was a time when any person, anyone didn't matter who, was restraining his willful brother he would have charged at them and forced them to relinquish the man who had raised him. But now, he gave a simple thank you for the restraint and sat back down in front of the angry man.

"NO SAM!" Dean yelled. "GET AWAY FROM ME!" Sam simply sighed, winced at the pain in his stomach, wiped the spoon on his shirt, and dipped it back into the mashed potatoes he had made for the elder man.

"You need to eat Dean." Sam said softly and without anger or frustration.

"THEY'LL HURT YOU! THEY WANT TO H URT YOU." Dean kept screaming. Sam moved just in time to miss a flailing foot and stood, he handed Missouri the potatoes and grabbed both of Dean's feet, straightened them out and then sat just above Dean's knees, effectively cutting off their ability to do damage.

"Thanks Missouri." He said simply as he took the food back from her. He grabbed Dean's face and forced his head steady all the while forcing his mouth open, and forcing him to eat.

"You need to eat Dean. You need to be strong. Missouri and Bobby are here to help us. They are here to get the demons out of your head. They will fix this." Sam said gently.

Missouri only hoped that Sam's faith wasn't misplaced. She hoped that she could fix the mess that the elder brother was in. Right now she was alternating between trying to fortify her defenses and waiting for tears to free flow down her face at the scene that was playing out in front of her. This man who was on the floor, thrashing, red faced, and barely coherent was a far cry from strong, brash, cocky, reading for anything adult Dean Winchester she had met years ago. However, one thing remained the same, he was still protecting the ones he loved. Still trying to keep them safe. And his efforts at protection had led to him being reduced to being fed by his charge. He had protected his brother to the point where he had become a frightened mess on the floor refusing food and hitting his brother to keep him away from him. Missouri could hear Dean's internal screaming. Could hear how he felt that by keeping his brother away from him, from touching him, from helping him, that he could keep Sam safe. That Sam wouldn't be touched by the darkness that Dean felt all around him, felt that surrounded him, and worried would take him over and would force him to become the ultimate demon fighting machine. Not affected by holy water or exorcisims, and in the disguise of an innocent trusted hunter, and fully capable of laying the foundations for other demons. Fully capable of making his brother lead the demon army and allowing him to turn evil.

Sam put the bowl down and wiped his brother's mouth with the napkin he had brought along with supper. Bobby let Dean go and immediately Dean began shouting for them to get away from him that he was dangerous to be around.

Missouri held back her tears and knelt in front of him. "Baby. You need to listen to me." She tried to make eye contact with Dean and he refused. He started to lash out again and Sam grabbed his arms before he could make contact with Missouri.

"Can you see it?" Sam asked with worry.

"Yes, baby I can see what's the matter."

"Can you fix it?"

"I will try."

"Please fix it." Sam pleaded, and Missouri suddenly understood what made Dean go to hell and back to keep this man safe.


	50. Jump

Missouri touched Sam's arm and tried to put a smile on her face. "I'll do my best baby. But I'm going to need your help."

"My help? I haven't had any psychic stuff since we killed the Yellow Eyed Demon."

"I don't need that kind of help. I need your connection to your brother. I need you, Sam Winchester, to help me navigate his mind."

"Are we going to dream walk?"

"Sort of. It won't be as much fun as that."

"I don't recall the last time I walked through Dean's head fun."

"I don't suppose it is much fun for him either Sam. You only got a glimpse of his inner world. Just imagine what it is like for him all of the time. Imagine what it is like for him right now to have those demons using him as a conduit, a way of getting what they want. His whole life has been about protecting you Sam. Every single step he has made has been in an effort to keep you safe, and now, they are using him to attempt to take you down. That is a lot for him to handle." Sam nodded.

"What do we do?"

"Well, you need to get some sleep."

"Sleep? I can't sleep now."

"Why not?"

"I have to stay up with Dean. I have to make sure he doesn't hurt himself. I can't let him get hurt."

"I can't let you help me until you are fully rested."

"I can do it. I don't need sleep." Sam said with determination.

"Sam. Do as Missouri tells you. You aren't in any condition to help your brother."

"Bobby." Sam started to protest.

"Don't waste your energy arguing boy. It won't get you anywhere with me and you know it. Get some rest." Bobby clapped Sam on the shoulder. Sam looked down at his brother who was trembling, mumbling to himself and holding his knees tightly to his chest. The sight hurt Sam deep and he rubbed a spot on his chest where his brother seemed to reside.

"We will fix this? He won't ever be like this again?" Sam asked softly.

"If we do this right, he won't ever be like this again." Missouri reassured.

"We'll take care of him while you sleep Sam." Bobby added. Sam nodded and reluctantly walked away from his brother and into his room, and lay down on his bed fully clothed and tried to sleep, but like those many nights before his brother had returned to him he wasn't able to sleep. He simply starred out of the window and watched the trees sway in the night breeze. Focused so intently on trying to sleep that he didn't hear when Missouri came into his room. She stood in front of his eye line and startled him. She smiled sadly and handed him a warm tea and he drank it, knowing full well that besides the soothing effect of the actual tea, she had more than likely drugged it. He was right, and he fell sound asleep.

The next morning, he woke the elders up in the house, like a child on Christmas, and demanded that they begin their work with Dean. Missouri forced breakfast down Sam's throat, and Sam insisted on force feeding Dean.

"I'm ready now Missouri. No more stalling." She sighed.

"Sam this is going to be dangerous."

"Missouri. Do I look like I care?"

"Sweetie, that is precisely why I'm saying this. This isn't like going into a hunt with guns blazing and ready for action, this is your brother's mind. We have to be careful. He is in there. We can do more damage. He could be like this for the rest of his life, or he could be catatonic." Sam's eyes widened. "Or, we could do this right and he'll come out of this whole and something similar to what he was before all of this happened."

"What do you mean something similar?"

"He's had experiences that we will never fully comprehend, he will be different."

"I'm prepared for that. As long as he is okay, I'm happy." Sam said nervously. He wanted to get himself and Missouri in there and out and have his brother demon free and ready to join him in the real world.

"I just don't want you to be disappointed."

"How could I be disappointed? He's my brother. I can't leave him like this. I can't let him live like this. I'll kill him before that. I would hope he would do the same for me."

"What are you thinking Sam?"

"Nothing." He said unconvincingly.

"You are thinking that if he stays like this you will just shoot the both of you and call it a day."

"Stay out of my head Missouri." Sam said darkly.

"I just want you to hear yourself Sam."

"I do hear myself. I know the risks both ways. Come on. Let's get going." Missouri sighed and looked at Bobby.

"I told you on the way over. If one goes they both go. This shouldn't be new to you Missouri. Best to get this show on the road." Missouri turned her dark unhappy eyes from Singer to Winchester and sighed. She knew when she lost a major battle.

"Okay, when we go in, the demons will have laid traps all around, because they are not going to want me to seal up their passage into this world. I'm going to need you to keep the defenses at bay while I'm in there." Sam nodded eagerly. "Sit down, next to your brother." Sam nodded and got as close to Dean as he would allow. "You need to touch him." Sam nodded again and grabbed his brother's hand and Dean immediately started howling and Sam pinned his arm underneath his and held his hand tightly against his own chest. Missouri took Sam's other hand and took a deep breath. "Now Sam, you'll feel me in your mind and when I pull you along, you need to follow."

"Okay." Missouri closed her eyes and found herself in Sam's world. It had all of the markings of a beautiful world, but looked now as if it were a painting that had been tarnished by lack of upkeep, and some portions of the canvas were shredded by what looked like claws. Missouri looked all around and was mystified at how the man that she had known as the most well adjusted of the Winchesters could live in a world so dark and tarnished.

"Once upon a time it was bright and happy here. But over the last two years it has become this. When Dean is better my world will get brighter and be better." Sam, who was suddenly in front of Missouri said. Missouri shook her head and took his hand.

"Let's go baby. Let's go fix your brother." Sam took her hand with a hopefulness he hadn't felt since he had watched Dean shredded by hell hounds. Sam closed his eyes and asked God to help them fix Dean, asked him to allow one of his soldiers a break. And he jumped when Missouri jumped.


	51. The Path

They landed in a place totally encapsulated in silence, light was absent, but they were both able to see each other well enough in the dark.

"What can we expect?" Missouri asked.

"With Dean, who really knows? When I went dream walking with him, there was a girl he had known sitting on a picnic blanket and they had a child together. Never imagined my brother wishing for normal. So I really don't know." Missouri nodded and looked around.

"Dean, baby, you have to help us." Missouri said in a clear voice.

"Dean. Please. I need you to help us." Sam said.

"Sammy. You aren't allowed to be out past dark." Sam recognized the voice. He looked around and his eyes finally settled on a ten year old Dean, freckles standing out on a too pale face.

"Dean. I've been in the dark over half of my life." Sam responded. The young boy's brow furrowed and he nodded.

"I know Sammy and that's why I don't want you here in the dark. You don't need to be in the dark. It's not safe here."

"Dean it isn't safe anywhere."

"I know Sammy. I know."

"Dean. Where are the demons coming from?" Missouri asked. The young version of Dean shook his head.

"Hell? Where else do demons come from lady?"

"Boy, don't you take that tone with me. Where are they around here?" The boy just shook his head.

"I don't know where the demons are."

"Dean, where is the darkness coming from? Where is its source?" The boy smiled.

"Oh! The darkness. You'll have to find that on your own. I can't help. I'm not old enough to hunt yet. But I do know that you have to follow the path."

"What path?" Sam asked.

"The one you are standing on Sammy. Geeze, for all of that schooling and for all of that reading you do, you still aren't real quick on the uptake." Sam would have smiled if he wasn't so worried. "I've got to go Sammy. Be careful. The darkness knows you are here. The whispers have begun. Can't you hear it?" Sam and Missouri both listened and the child was right. There was whispering and it was coming from all around them. When Sam turned to look at his brother again he was gone. Missouri sighed.

"I guess we are on our own."

"I don't think so." Sam said. Missouri looked at him confused. "I think there are going to be a lot of little helpers like this. But I am positive there are going to be a lot of traps, both of Dean's design and of the demons."

"Well, let's get to it boy." Sam nodded and the two looked down and there was in fact a path. Sam snickered to himself and followed the path that his brother had provided, just like he always had.


	52. Clues

The two walked slowly down the path, eyes looking in all directions searching for danger. The path was clear as far as the eye could see, but then again, Dean always looked normal as far as the eye could see. Once the layers of clothes were stripped away you could see the scars crisscrossing his body, some that looked suspiciously like bite marks, the one on his hip that was the beginning of some ancient language that something or other had carved into his flesh before their dad could get to it, and the tattoo over his heart that were meant to keep the demons out, yeah, as far as the eye could see, he was normal, but puncture that thin veil and all you saw was the darkness.

They turned a corner in the path and were suddenly in a completely different territory. This area looked more like a forest, complete with gnarled trees. The forest was so dense that Sam had a hard time seeing two inches from his face. He pulled Missouri closer and tightened his grip on her arm. He would not loose his one hope for helping his brother. They stepped over thick hulking vines, and Sam was busy helping Missouri over one and didn't hear or notice the one vine that had snaked down the tree and creped towards him. Before he knew what was happening it twisted tightly around his ankle and pulled him down—and boy was it a long way down. He landed with a thud and immediately turned to see what had taken him down, saw the vine and reached into his pocket for his knife and couldn't find it.

"Come on Sammy." A teenaged Dean said. Sam looked over and found his brother, circa 16, standing next to a tree, arms crossed, giving the smirk that mean that he had one upped his little brother and it had been too easy. "Sammy, this is my world, you came here unarmed. What have I taught you?"

"What are you talking about Dean?" Sam asked struggling to get the vine from his leg. "Why are you holding us up? Don't you want these demons out of your head?" Sam asked as he grabbed at the vine and realized that, short of cutting off his own foot, there was no way he was going to be getting this thing off of him. Dean moved to his little brother, knelt and pushed hair out of Sam's eyes.

"Think Sammy. What have I taught you?"

"To kill first ask questions later?" Sam tried.

"Wow. And you think you are the one person in the world that knows me best. You wanted to be just like me before I died. You mimicked all of the parts that were dangerous about me. But there is something that I'm very good at. Something that could help you out in this little nightmare we call my mind." Sam starred into the eyes that hadn't looked that innocent in over 10 years and thought. Thought hard about what made his brother, his brother. There were lots of things. He liked women, cars, and whisky. But that was just interests. What made Dean, Dean?

Sam's brows furrowed as he thought. "There goes my geek boy brother. Thinking his way out of it."

Then it clicked. Sam thought his way out of things. Dean INVENTED ways out of things. Sam smiled. He lifted his hand and envisioned a machete in his hand and it appeared. He hacked the vines at his feet, and when they were clear the smooth metal blade disappeared from his fingers.

"That a boy Sammy." Dean smiled and patted his little brother on the shoulder. "College didn't completely ruin you." Dean said playfully. "That's what I taught you. That is what you needed to remember. That is what is going save you Sammy. That is what is going to make this better." Dean stood and backed away from his little brother. "See ya Sammy." The teenager disappeared into the thick forest. Sam's heart beat wildly in his chest.

"Sam?" Missouri asked at his side. Sam jumped, he hadn't expected her to be right there. "What just happened?"

"He gave me a clue."

"What is it?"

"I've got to be more like him."

"I don't' understand."

"All of this time I was trying to be like him, but I was only mimicking what I could see, not what I knew. Got to be more like him to survive."

"Sam you aren't making sense."

"That's just it. Things don't always have to make sense. Sometimes you have to change the rules, sometimes you have to be inventive, sometimes you just can't think your way out of something." Missouri watched dismayed as the young man stood. "That's how we are going to get out of this Missouri. It's like this forest. I would have died there if I had just sat there and thought about how to get out. I needed a knife. I imagined the biggest baddest one we have in the Impala, I imagined it and wished for it and it appeared. I was inventive. That is how we are going to save ourselves, that is how we are going to save Dean. Come on, we have to hurry."

"Sam, the path is blocked by fallen trees."

"Then we'll fly." Sam said half joking. For the first time since this whole thing started, Sam was starting to feel hopeful that it might just work.


	53. The Demon Inside

Sam and Missouri walked through Dean's mind silently and on guard. Ever since Teen Dean's warning, Sam had been more cautious, he had called for a flashlight and it had appeared in his hand and when he turned it on, he watched as Dean's dark world got darker, and the darker it got, the closer he knew they were to the break in Dean's mind.

"Sam!" He heard his brother scream. The sound made his blood turn cold. "Sam!" The same tone, the same inflection, it sounded like his brother's soul was ripping apart, just that one word, just that one syllable told Sam so much, and what it told him was that he needed to hurry and find his brother, needed to get there and help him.

"Sam?" Missouri said trying to get Sam's attention. There was no getting his attention. He had heard the same thing she had and she knew that Dean's pull would always be stronger to Sam than anyone else's.

He ignored her and started to turn in the direction of his brother's call.

"Sam! You can't leave me here." Missouri said. Sam continued to ignore her and she sighed in frustrated and followed after the taller man. Sam moved quickly, the flashlight shining wildly as his footsteps hurried him towards the sound. Sam stopped dead suddenly and Missouri crashed into his solid back. She moved from behind the younger man and saw just what arrested his attention. There Dean was sliding into the mud holding his younger brother up and telling him that it would be all right, that he would patch him up, that he was all right, and then the bone chilling call of his name when Dean realized that his baby brother was dead. Then the tears. The scene blinked out and then it started all over again like a DVD stuck in a loop.

"Wonderful isn't it?" The voice from the corner called. It was Dean's voice, his body, but the eyes were oil slick black and they held mirth that they shouldn't' have held while watching this particular scene. Sam's body tingled at the eyes. He had seen his eyes turn black in the mirror, watched and felt the demonic presence take over his body, but never had he ever imagined Dean's big expressive green eyes to be taken over by the black, the darkness.

"The eyes bothering you?" he asked. Sam swallowed and demon Dean laughed. "Good." The figure hopped off of the rock in which he had been perched and strode over to Sam. "You see, you think that since you have him back, have his body back, that you actually have him. You are a fool. We still control him. And in a few years his eyes will be as black as mine."

"Dean would rather die."

"And he will. Don't be stupid Sammy. You've seen what happens to all of the hosts after the demons leave them. We slowly destroy them. Some of them we destroy so badly that they blink out of existence. There isn't even enough left of their souls to go to heaven or hell. Or some we trap inside the body like we have Dean. And then we merge ourselves with them and drag the soul back down to hell when we are exorcised."

"You're lying."

"Come on Sammy. That the best you can do? You two always reassure yourselves by saying that we are lying, but the truth of the matter is that when it comes to the two of you, we are generally telling truth, because the truth hurts you guys so much more than any lie we could weave." Sam shut his mouth. "You see that scene over there?" Sam's eyes flicked to Dean in the mud rain poring down and him begging him to be alive. Sam swallowed hard. "That is something that we made sure to play quite a bit while he was with us."

"Let him go." Sam said darkly.

"You see, this is what you don't get. You act like we are okay with the fact that you got your brother out of hell. No, no, no, wait. Let me start that over. You act like we didn't expect you to get Dean out of hell. Like we didn't figure that you would do everything that was within your power to get him back. We knew, and we planned for it, hell we were counting on it. So we made sure to continue the torture when he got out of the pit, and it worked, and the bonus was that you were affected as well. That was priceless watching you cry, drink yourself into oblivion, stop hunting, that one was the best right there." The demon using Dean's face giggled, actually giggled at the last. "We managed to kill lots of good people while you were a little on the drunk side, and too busy trying to figure out what to do with your brother while he rocked senselessly in the corner. That was truly awesome."

Range truly blinded Sam. He didn't remember forming a knife in his hand, and he didn't remember moving towards the demon wearing his brother's face, he didn't even realize he had the knife to his throat until the demon laughed.


	54. Locks and Brothers

Sam turned from the scene and from his brother lying in a lifeless heap at his feet. This wasn't Dean, this was a trap, this was a snag made by a demon to keep him busy and away from what would save his brother. Sam turned quickly, took Missouri's shoulder and turned her around, the flashlight appearing in his hand again and he pointed them in the other direction.

"Sam, what if.."

"That is not Dean."

"But."

"There is no but Missouri. I know my brother. This isn't him. This was a host, an illusion, nothing more. Come on." He said an urged her forward. Missouri sensed that he knew what he was talking about and she trusted that he was right and they continued forward.

Along the way they were privy to other little bits and pieces of Dean's mind and daydreams and Sam ignored them all, he didn't look around, he simply moved forward, kept going, kept trying to find the rip in his brother so they could fix it and they could go back to normal, their normal. After that moment of watching Dean's eyes, the eyes that had comforted and helped him all of his life, turn oil black, demon black, he hadn't been in any mood to go site seeing again. His mission became clearer to him in the instant the black smoke had erupted from Dean's body than at any other instant in his life. He had to save Dean. He had to get out of this nightmare, heal the wound and make it right.

What seemed like a thousand years ago he had promised Dean that he would save him, and he had failed saving his brother from the fiery pit but he had another chance to redeem himself, and to save his brother, this time from the residual hold the demons had on him. Never again would Dean's eyes bleed black.

Sam felt as though they were close to the end of their journey and Missouri confirmed it when she put a hand on his chest and stopped his forward movement.

"Demons have scarred this part of him really bad Sam."

"I can tell."

"Your psychic abilities?"

"No. I just know my brother." He let go of Missouri and walked a little farther ahead and what he saw stunned him.

An emaciated Dean was pushing against a door, a door that looked very similar to the gates of hell that had started this whole mess in the first place. He looked as if he were struggling to keep it closed.

"Thank God you made it Sammy. I don't have the colt Sammy. I need your help."

"Dean?" Dean turned to face him, and there was almost no muscle under the skin, it looked as if his brother's skin had been stretched around a skull. The only thing that looked like his brother was his eyes. His eyes were bright and clear, determined even, they looked just like they did when he was on a hunt and ready to kick some serious ass.

"Sammy. Come on. I need the colt to lock this son of a bitch down tight."

"But what about the demons that are all ready out." Dean smirked, and it was disturbing, looked like something out of a horror movie.

"Those I can deal with. I just don't have the strength to keep anymore from coming out. I need the colt."

"Baby?" Missouri asked looking up at Sam.

"This is Dean. This is the truth."

"Come on Sam." Dean said. "I need the colt." Sam took a deep breath and envisioned the colt and it appeared in his hand and he hurried to his brother's side. He thrust the gun into the key hole and turned it and they heard the tumblers of the ancient lock slide into place. Both men slid to the ground beside the gate. "Thought you would never get here Sammy. I've been waiting."

"You knew I would come for you?"

"Of course I did. You're my brother. I taught you."

"What?"

"You still don't get it completely do you?"

"I guess I don't."

"There is so much more to being Dean Winchester than kicking ass, food and women. I take care of those I love. I taught you that and you just proved you learned the lesson." Sam smiled.

"I guess I did."

"That's because you have an awesome teacher."

"I do." He looked at his emaciated brother and Dean caught his stare. "I know. I looked worse before we started working on the house, you know my salt circle days. You helped me get this strong. I need you to keep at it. Keep me strong. I'll fight the demons in here. But I need you on the outside to keep the demons at bay as well." Sam nodded.

"Now get the hell out of here before you start to cry you big baby."

"You sure Dean?"

"I'm sure. I need you out there Sammy." Sam stood and headed back towards Missouri.

"Sam." Sam turned.

"Yeah."

"Thanks."

"That's what brothers are for."

Sam's eyes opened and he sat up and found Bobby right beside Dean, easing him down to the floor.

"What happened?" Sam asked groggily pushing himself up.

"He just suddenly relaxed. It was like he was finally safe and he stopped kicking and everything." Sam took a really good look at their old friend and saw the cuts, scrapes, and bruises forming. He thought that he could make out his brother's dental impression on Bobby's arm.

"He?"

"Yeah. Don't know what you two were doing in there but he was kicking and screaming. Fighting there for a while like there was no tomorrow. That was when he bit me. Weirdest thing being bit by a grown man who isn't possessed." Sam couldn't even smile at the joke, "Is he okay now Sam?" Sam looked at his old friend and nodded.

"He says he is."

"Do you believe him?"

"I have to."


	55. Me

Dean opened his eyes slowly, looked around and found Bobby on one side sleeping, and what looked like to be one hell of a shiner swelling his left eye, while on his other side, Sam slept upright in a hardwood chair that he had built for the kitchen. Dean forced himself to sit up against the headboard, careful not to make noise to disturb his sleeping brother and friend. He searched his memory for anything before sleep had over took his consciousness and he found that he only remembered bits and pieces of the previous days. He remembered being back into a sort of salt circle, remembered screaming and kicking his at Sam, but then again, he seemed to have some sort of memory that felt more like a dream of Sam talking to him, of him talking to Sam about what being Dean Winchester was really all about.

He slipped out of the covers and his feet met with hardwood and he padded out of the room and down the stairs, he needed a drink of water, his mouth felt like cotton had been stuffed inside of it. When he made his way to the kitchen, he found Missouri sitting there, starring into a cup of what appeared to be coffee. She turned to face him when she sensed his presence. He fashioned the 'my name is Dean Winchester and I'm fine' smile and asked, "Got any more of that coffee around?" She nodded.

"It's on the stove." Dean picked up the coffee pot and poured himself a cup and sat down to face her. "Smells good." He said trying to find something to say to her. She hadn't taken well to him when he had met her back in Lawrence, and to be honest he wasn't even really sure why she was here. He didn't remember Sam telling him anything about her coming, and for that matter, he didn't recall Sam saying anything about Bobby coming either. "Tastes good too." He said as a stalling measure trying to figure out what to say, how to ask why she was here without sounding rude and causing a further rift in their tenuous relationship.

"Sam called me and Bobby. He needed help." She stated. Dean was grateful.

"Why?"

"Because he couldn't handle what they were doing to you."

"He handled it all right the last time."

"But this time was different."

"How?"

"Your brother just knew it was different this time."

"Psychic stuff?"

"Brother stuff." Dean nodded and looked over his cup at Missouri.

"What exactly happened?"

"The demons essentially opened a gate in your mind. They were able to put suggestions in, without you knowing, and point you in certain directions." Dean nodded. He seemed to recall something about that before the zone out period.

"How did you guys get them out?"

"Your brother went mind walking with me." Dean visibly paled. "Don't worry baby. You were there guiding him every step of the way."

"How?"

"Think."

"So what I dreamt wasn't a dream?"

"No. Your brother and I went through your mind." Dean looked sheepish and scared. Missouri reached out and touched his ringed hand. "Sam doesn't think any less of you." He looked up and deeply into Missouri's eyes she spoke the truth, but he still felt uncomfortable that they had frolicked in his mind. That was private terrain and it was bad enough that Sam had seen his dream all those years ago, he didn't need to see what it was like in there now. It was a much scarier place now that he had been to hell and back, he didn't even like exploring his own psyche.

"What did you find?" he asked coarsely.

"One of the demons talked to us." She whispered.

"Demon? I don't have any demons in me." Dean said defensively, pulling away from the older woman.

"You have some demons that speak through you Dean. They left a figurative gate open in your mind and have been using it to speak through you." Dean's eyes widened with terror. His only thought was that he needed to die, needed to kill the demon inside of him.

"Did you guys get it out?"

"Your brother helped you shut the gate."

"Helped me? What? How did he do that?"

"He had the colt and the two of you locked it and I sealed it."

"But what about the demons inside me? Are they still there?" His panic was almost tangible, it came off of him in waves, his eyes large almost completely pupil, the green just a slim ring around the black.

"You told Sam that you were fine and he seemed to take that as a good thing." Dean closed his eyes and all of the times that he had told Sam that he was fine flicked through his memory and he could count on one hand the number of times he actually meant the words. Did Sam know the difference? Had he been honest with Sam? How many times had Dean not been honest with himself? He felt Sam more than he heard him and turned in his chair to see his brother, bare footed, enter the kitchen.

"You're awake." Sam said softly and got a cup down and filled it with coffee.

"How long was I out?" he tried to ask casually.

"A day. You slept through the night and then just kept on going." He took a drink of the warm liquid and didn't take his eyes off of his brother. Dean simply nodded. "Why didn't you wake me or Bobby?"

"You looked tired."

Sam nodded. "How are you feeling?" Sam asked casually.

"I'm fine."

"Liar." So Sam did know the difference. "You're freaked."

Dean shrugged. "So what if I am?" He took another deep drink from his mug trying to hide his face from his brother.

"Then we may have to brave a couple more chick flick moments and straighten this out."

"Missouri told me that I told you that I was fine while the two of you were in my head. Did you believe me?"

"Yes." Sam said simply.

"What did you see?"

"You, mostly."

"What did I say?"

"You directed me around, showed me how to survive. Just like you always have."

"I sense a but in there. You are hiding something Sammy."

"It's nothing."

"No." Dean stood. "No. Whatever you saw, has you freaked. Tell me right now damnit."

"You gonna hit me again if I don't?" Sam asked drawing to his full height.

"I may."

"It won't help."

"Then just freaking tell me." Sam starred at his brother with hard eyes. He didn't want to tell the story of the demon, using his brother's face, saying things that he didn't know were true. He didn't know if he could force himself to see it in his mind's eye again. Dean suddenly looked like he knew. Relaxed and tensed all at the same time.

"A demon wearing my face?"

"How?"

"Lucky guess."

"Dean?"

"Sam."

"I…well..I don't know. I believe that you are fine, but I don't know if there is still a demon whispering in your mind. I felt it whisper while I was in there, I heard it. I don't know if it is still there." Dean closed his eyes and sighed.

"I don't think that was a demon you spoke to Sam."

"But it's eyes, it was a demon, it was just a demon wearing your face." Dean thought and thought, wracked his brain, he knew that there wasn't a demon inside of him. There might have been some whispering through the gate and trying to get out but they didn't. He was certain. Then it hit him.

"No, Sam. It wasn't a demon. It was me."


	56. Satisfied

Sam starred at his brother in fear, confusion and shock. What in the hell was Dean talking about? He wasn't a demon, never even close, Sam was the one with the demon blood, he was the one who could be a closet demon, not hiss brother who had done everything his family had ever asked of him, including going to hell for Sam, had saved more people than Sam had ever met and would give anything he had to a child who was in need. No. Dean Winchester could not be a demon. No. Way.

"No. Dean. That couldn't have been you." Dean rubbed at his eyes and sighed.

"Yeah Sammy it can be."

"You can't be part demon."

"No. I didn't say that I was." Dean turned from his brother and went to the cooler, damn they needed to get that refrigerator, and took the milk out to make himself a bowl of cereal. Sam, angry that his brother would turn away from him at this juncture in a conversation, spun Dean around sending the half gallon of milk flying out of his hand and landing in the connected living room, they both herd the milk splatter all over their very nice living room but neither cared. Each starred at each other seething. Sam because he was angry that Dean wasn't being honest, and Dean because Sam was treating him like a child.

"Don't do that to me ever again."

"Don't you ever just leave me out of the loop like that again." Both tried to stare each other down like two dogs trying to fight for dominance. Bobby was up at this point watching the brothers from the stairs. Missouri never moved from the table, and just watched them, and like watching caged animals, she didn't move, hoping not to draw their attention and thereby their attack.

"It isn't any of your concern Sam. Just know that it is nothing to worry about."

"The hell it doesn't concern me Dean. Everything about you concerns me." Sam said in a low threatening tone.

"I didn't ask for you to get in my head."

"It was the only way to save you." Dean stopped at that, but his eyes never wavered from his brothers. "Dean. Are you a demon?"

"No. I am not a demon." Dean said steadily and honestly.

"Then what did I see?"

"Me." he said simply. Sam grabbed his brother's shirt and slammed him against the wall of the kitchen so hard it made Dean's teeth clack together.

"Fucking tell me right now Dean, or I'll bash your brains in."

"No you won't. You can't stand to see me unconscious."

"Tell me right now."

"That demon in there, that is me. That was the part of my soul that hell was eating at. That is the part that is completely tainted by the pit. In a couple more years, that would have been all of me." Dean's eyes searched Sam's, looking for disgust, looking for hatred but what he found was worse, sympathy. "You satisfied? Let me go." Dean said with fire and Sam let his brother go, astonished at the words and watched him go out the door and slam it closed.


	57. Yeah, We're Good

A/N: Okay now all of my really active stories are updated. I so wanted this one done by the primere...because this is soooooo not the direction Kripke took it. (He did much better than I could ever) But, again, if you read all my stuff, you know that I live in Ohio and didn't have power from Sunday until Thursday so nothing got updated. Enjoy, one chapter left.

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"If I were you son, I'd go after him before he has a chance to clam up on you." Sam took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and fortified himself for the force that was Dean and followed his brother's path out the door.

Dean wasn't far. Sitting at the edge of the porch actually, just watching the trees blow in the wind.

"Drop it Sam." He said when he heard the door close. Sam ignored him and sat down on the step beside him.

"What is going on in that head?" Sam asked calmly after a moment.

"You got to see it all. Why don't you tell me."

"That's not fair."

"It is too fair. You rooted around up there Sam. You saw things that I don't even want to see."

"I had to save you Dean. We have come so far. I need you here." Dean nodded. He seemed to take that information in and process it. "It was just like you selling your soul for my life. It was just something you needed to do. Saving you was something I had to do." Dean nodded again. Sam looked away from his brother, picked at the skin around his thumb, "Because I love you Dean." Dean looked over at his brother and for the first time in a long time, he actually heard the sentiment and took it to heart. Sam had said the words before, and Dean always believed it to a degree, but he always thought that if Sam knew him inside and out he wouldn't continue to say that. Now Sam did. Sam saw him inside, knew him for what he was.

"I love you too Sam." He said without looking at his brother. They both sat and watched the trees sway in the wind. Sam smiled.

"You think this is why people always think we're gay?" Dean reached over and punched Sam in the shoulder.

"Shut up. Let's go inside. The adults are probably worried."

"We good?" Sam asked once standing.

"Yeah, Sammy, we're good."


	58. EpilogueFound

After Bobby and Missouri left, Sam and Dean felt uncomfortable in their own skins around each other. It seemed crash down around Dean's ears just exactly what Sam had done for him while he had been out of sorts. Sure Sam had watched him and studied him most of his life, he knew that, but his little brother had never had to take care of him. Dean never let anyone take care of him. He had decided at age four that he was old enough to take care of not only himself but his baby brother, it seemed wrong now that at age thirty, Dean had needed his twenty-six year old brother to do everything from feed him to wipe his ass. It seemed to go against the natural order of things, especially Dean's perception of order. It was one more thing that he cursed the demons for. They had taken their mother, father and part of Dean's dignity and all of that was unacceptable. So, in an effort to right the wrong Dean pushed away from Sam, tried to compose himself again and make things okay in his head. But what he hadn't counted on was Sam.

Sam had always been predictable. Dean shuts down, Sam gets puppy dog look and asks once a day what is wrong until Dean spills because he is tired of being asked. As a matter of fact, Sam was usually the only person who could get Dean to talk about his feelings, engage him in a chick flick moment or even let down his guard. But this time, Sam didn't push or prod. He simply left Dean alone, he didn't poke and prod like he would have before Dean's trip to hell, but he most certainly didn't give Dean any more physical space than he usually did. He made Dean look at him every single day, made him see the worry and patience. That was what Dean needed. Sam had learned a lot in the time he spent in his brother's mind and he knew that he had to let Dean figure out his new place in the world.

And one night when they were sitting down to a warm supper, cooked on the stove, and with cold pop from the refrigerator Dean began to talk.

"They aren't kidding when they call it hell Sammy." Sam stopped with his fork midway to his mouth.

"You wanna talk about it?"

"Fire isn't exactly what hell is. You know. it is more like all of your fears playing in surround sound with you the star of the show. Like there is some demonic writer that thinks it's hilarious to make the characters and the audience suffer." Dean shook his head. "I watched you leave me every way imaginable. I watched mom burn on the ceiling, I watched as every single innocent person I tried to save get eaten by the monsters. They dismembered me, blinded me, let me scream until I had nothing left. And they kept doing it. It was never ending. I think fire would have been easier."

"But you made it."

"Yeah. I made it. I made it just barely. I wouldn't have lasted long in there before I became one of them, before I hurt so bad that I would have done to other souls what was happening to me. Over and over again. Everything. It was awful Sammy." Sam nodded waiting for his brother to continue. Dean looked up into his brother's eyes. "I'm glad you fought for me. I'm glad you came after me."

"You're my brother." Dean nodded.

"Yeah. I've used that excuse for doing all sorts of stupid crap." Sam looked up confused. "It is one excuse that I'll use for the rest of my life." Sam looked perplexed.

"Dean?"

"You gonna eat that?" he asked pointing with his fork at the meatball sitting on the side of his plate. Seeing the evasion for what it was, Sam shook his head. Dean speared it with his fork and put the whole thing in his mouth. His cheeks bulged with the meat, and for the first time in his life, Sam didn't feel disgusted, didn't feel the need to gripe at his brother about his lack of table manners. This was the new Sam. The Sam that was simply grateful for the brother before him, stronger, and more mature.

Dean was no longer lost. Sam had found him…..and saved him.

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A/N: This story started out as a 1-shot. All I saw was Dean almost comatose with long hair and a beard. That was all I was going to write. Then people asked for it to be longer, and here I am fifty some chapters later, a summer passed, and I am just now finishing this.

I have enjoyed writing this, and I have enjoyed reading everyone's comments. This story helped me find my voice as a writer in this community. You guys gave me confidence where I didn't have any, and I thank you all greatly.

Finally, I am sad to end this story because it has brought me friends that I will continue to enjoy their company. Thank you everyone for your encouragment and your praise, I am truly humbled and undeserving. Thank you very much.

Stacey

P.S--good to know I was wrong about how S4 would start...Dean in a salt circle for half a season, waste of Jensen's talent and a scary sight to behold, because we all know Jensen would have ackted it out of the park! LOL


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